


Gods, Monsters, Fathers, and Sons

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Series: Remember You Shall Die [3]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark!Charles, En Sabah Nur means Troll, En Sabah Nur thinks he's Zeus, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a Stalker, F/F, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So many flashbacks, The Media is evil, just EVIL, not cute not misunderstood, people making up government titles, self-harming with sex, warning: Charles Knows Best, warning: omnipotent kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 121,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has (god I suck summaries)…<br/>The world has been turned upside down since the death of President Shaw and the rise of the Great Patriarch.  Former Captain Charles Xavier is exalted by the globe as a new world leader but mysterious forces try to bring an end to it all.  A new faith and an old cult interfere with his plans for world peace.  As the Venerable Host, he is now haunted by ghosts, memories, regrets and a shameful longing to submit to his weaknesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Appointment

###  Gray City, Utopia February 1967

 

Former General Arlington leads the lines of the dead-eyed worshippers. She offers the monthly tribute on behalf of the Allied Forces and kneels at the feet of the little Prince. The boy hardly pays her any attention from the dais. He’s preoccupied with his toy soldiers, lining them up and knocking them down on floor behind the throne.

Arlington bows anyway as if she’s been acknowledged and steps away, walking out of the Great Hall. Next, the Prime Minister of Canada comes forward. Behind him is almost one hundred dignitaries from all over the globe.

Charles stands in an open gallery over the throne room. He has more important matters to see to today. Leaving this tedious task to Lucas is fine. His son has grown tall and coltish. He has his mother’s coloring, her mouth and ears, he thinks. Just looking at the boy hurts some times. Still, Charles delights in the fact that his four year old son has his eyes. A few freckles dot across his long nose. The boy’s accent is very proper. Charles couldn’t be more proud of him.

_Charles listens in on his son’s thoughts. The boy can hear Moira in his mind sometimes. She tells him not to get into anymore mischief. Behave himself and listen to his grandmother. Listen to his father. Be a good boy and study. In anyone else this would be red flag for mental illness, but Charles believes his son’s mind is trying to cope with numerous traumas that started before he was even born. The fact hat he’s a precocious, happy child amazes Charles._

_Lucas is torn between reading, paying attention to the ceremony, and conquering the little battleground he made. The boy promptly decides he can read later and believes the grownups don’t care what he thinks. So finishing the battle wins out. He doesn’t look in the boxes that are sat down at the foot of the throne. As his Aunt Angel flitters back and forth, handing the tributes to servants._

[ Charles ](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122214270601/in-the-months-since-the-god-woke-up-the-world-has)is satisfied with the proceedings and walks away.

 

In the months since the God woke up, the world has changed drastically. Some of it was by Charles’s own hand, but mostly the Great Patriarch brought about this new peace across the continents. Charles walks the halls to an antechamber where his Council is taking tea. Tessa is dressed in a dark violet pantsuit, her head covered in a dark scarf. She sits at the table as Hank pours her a cup. Hank is still wearing his lab coat, and is probably itching to get back to the Cerebro.

Darwin and Vincent are playing chess while Alex pretends to snore nearby. Darwin warns him to go elsewhere and Vincent rolls his eyes, but they tolerate the restless young one-eyed man. Charles clears his throat to gets everyone’s attention. Darwin frowns and Alex stands to attention. Vincent smirks at him while Tessa stands up to greet him properly, giving him a kiss on the each cheek.

Hank, ever the productive little worker, promptly presents Charles with paperwork and a pen. “I need a signature here and here before I get started for the day.”

Charles smiles gently at his young friend. He quickly scrawls his name and lets Hank escape the meeting.

Tessa leads him back to the table and pours him a cup of tea. “So this month’s Tribute is the last, correct?” She asks looking up at him from under her lashes. “We agreed on six months before, then seven, then eight. This is the sort of thing that only breeds resentment, Charles. Captain America has been very vocal about how un-American this all is.”

Charles hates to hear that. He would like to think he’s still just a soldier. An American and Englishman and a Captain. He would still wear his dog tags if he had them. He’s still proud of his service in the war. But war is messy and unnecessary. The Great Patriarch has shown the world a better way. No more mutants versus humans. No more Shaw. Skirmishes on borders and fighting civil wars is a thing of the past. Charles knew the world could be better and with a thought it was almost overnight.

Now, hearing the sounds of discontent from the other world leaders makes him uneasy.

Heavy is the head and all that, he thinks.

“Invite the Captain to lunch this week. We will see to his concerns then.” He says. “And announce that this was indeed the last Tribute. We are satisfied with the diligence of all our brothers and sisters. The world is truly ready to ascend to a new level.” He smiles and takes Tessa by the hand, “And I’m glad you’re all here by our side.”

Tessa smiles before pulling away. He can see clearly that she is disturbed by the force residing in him. The Great Patriarch fled Vincent’s body and took up residence in a new, more worthy host. “I’d like to speak to Arlington about her cousin before she leaves. I’m concerned about that report…” He looks to Darwin. “You said the tribesmen were praying fervently to an earth goddess, and I know of only one person who fits that description.” He smiles. “I want you and Alex to collect N’Dare. She’s to be our guest for the anniversary dinner.”

Darwin’s perpetual frown seems to deepen. Charles has trouble breaking through his mind, the man evolving to block Charles’s influence. He could do it, but it would damage his friend. He will just have to trust that whatever doubts Armando has about the Great Patriarch will ease with time.

Alex on the other hand is easy to read. Charles nudges away thoughts the impatient man is clogging his mind with. He makes a list for Alex to sort through. _Check on the palace barracks. Check on the shelters. Watch Lucas. Then he can have all the sex he wants with his husband._ Charles smiles as Alex visibly perks up. The younger man stands up, “Well, it’s been great. But I’ve got work to do. Later, losers.”

Darwin gets up to follow him, “Charles,” he throws over his shoulder, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop doing that.”

Charles smiles innocently, “Your husband is scatterbrained but amazingly focused when it comes to earning private time with you. I’d be proud, Darwin.”

Darwin smirks and rolls his eyes, “No comment. Later, losers.” He walks away, taking his aura of disapproval with him.

Charles sits up, extending a hand for Vincent to join him and Tessa at the table. The man does so reluctantly. His time as the host was unpleasant for him. He wasn’t powerful enough to properly engage with a living God, but the Great Patriarch forgives him for his shortcomings. He’s been a welcomed addition to Charles new family.

They all close their eyes and join each other on the astral plane. There they stand in the massive shadow of the ancient being. Charles looks up to the Great Patriarch without really seeing his face. It’s more than the others perceive. “We’ve received the last of the tributes. Shall we proceed?” He questions.

He feels approval from the mysterious, towering presence and passes the feeling onto Tessa and Vincent. “Very, well,” he says. “I wish you could make it to the party in person. If they could see…” he stops feeling a sudden cold chill. Outside of the shadow, a wraith of ice lingers nearby. Tessa pulls Charles by the hand. Vincent isn’t afraid, having never met Emma in person. But dealing with her apparition here is unsettling for Tessa. She nearly met the same fate.

Charles squeezes the woman’s hand. He addresses the Shadow again, “Thank you for your guidance. We will not let you down.” He looks at Emma one last time before leading the others back to their corporal bodies.

Later in the day, Charles has already seen to most of his tasks. He thinks having lunch with his son would be a welcome reward for the boy. They hardly get to spend much time together.

He finds his son’s mind in the master suite, reading aloud on the Charles’s bed. The nation has seen to making the Gray Palace a beautiful place. His bedroom is a bit over the top. The dark wooden accents remind him of his childhood, and the tall bookshelves comfort him. But they’ve given him a big four poster bed with thick blue drapes. It was all probably by Angel’s design but Sharon complains it’s not enough. She’s the mother of a living God now and she’s still not satisfied with her station. It’s enough to make his head hurt, but at least he has her nearby. Charles smiles, moving over to the bed and pulling the curtain aside.

Lucas looks up with a pout, pointing a flashlight at his father. “I can’t read with that light coming in!”

The curtain moves under Lucas’s power, falling shut and Charles lets out a laugh. “There’s plenty of light in the room. Why don’t you come out of there?”

“No.” Says his son, petulantly. “I’m reading about King Tut and his war with the mummies!”

Charles sighs, “That sounds like a comic book, not literature. Come out of there, Lucas. It’s time for lunch.”

The boy peeks out of the curtain, “I’m not hungry. I want to be alone.”

“Then why are you in my room.”

“Because I don’t feel like reading under my bed. It’s the same as reading in your bed, it’s so dark.”

A deep chuckle interrupts them from the doorway. Charles throws up his hands in exasperation. “He won’t come out,” he says.

Logan stomps over, leaving a trail of dirt and god knows what else. He knocks on the nightstand for effect, “Prince Lulu? You need to get out of there. And eat with your dad. I’m commandeering the room.” He pulls out a meaty cigar and lights it, puffing smoke at the curtain. “I need a bath and I plan on getting naked all over this room. Especially the bed.”

Lucas rushes to climb out, “You are so disgusting Uncle Logan!” He reaches back for his comic books. “I don’t know why Daddy lets you sleep in here.”

Logan shrugs and opens his mouth, probably to say something inappropriate.

Charles interrupts him, “I’m afraid Uncle Logan is like a wild animal. Or a pet dog. He thinks he’s people, honey. He always wants to sleep in the bed…” He awkwardly pushes his son out of the room. “Go see if Angel is ready and we’ll take lunch with Raven and Tessa, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Lucas nods and hurries away. Charles looks back at Logan. The dirty man is sitting on the bed, removing his boots and soiled socks. Making a mess of the area as he does so. “Honestly, Logan. Can you not traumatize my son?”

“Me? You’re the one calling people animals. I told him before you had nightmares, so I sleep in here to fight ‘em off. He seemed to like that idea.” He smirks around his cigar, “Course, you could just be honest with the brat and tell him the truth.”

Charles shakes his head. He walks over and sits on the larger man’s lap. He’s still thankful for all the gifts he’s been given from the Great Patriarch. He no longer feels any pain in his knee. But as Logan said, he does have nightmares. Terrors that rise up from the Astral Plane, memories of the horrors he’s experienced. Having Logan around helps.

He closes his eyes and lets the older man roughly undress him. His fine blue suit is ripped in some places and he doubts anyone can save it. When he’s completely naked, he gets up and poses on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. Logan slaps his ass with a rough hand, then stands up to get their oil out of the nightstand. The brief time he’s away, Charles’s imagination changes the setting. He’s not in the Gray Palace. He’s not in his room. He closes his eyes and leans down, leaving his body more exposed. He breathes in and smells the familiar scents of iron and clean musk. He covers his mouth as blunt fingers gently work him open.

Charles reasons, he still isn’t attracted to men. Not at all. He prefers legs and breasts and wet openings… he wishes he could still look a woman in the eye and tell her she was beautiful and then take her apart slowly with his hands and mouth… but he’s broken. He deserves to be broken, he thinks. He failed at first. He didn’t save anyone. He merely coasted on the power of the Great Patriarch and now he deserves this.

His mind floats away and he thinks of Moira. He thinks of laying on their couch in Bastogne, years ago. Feeling content to have the woman he loves lay next to him. Listening to her even breathing, kissing her on the forehead. Their old record player skipping over their favorite tracks and the house dark and comfortable. His last truly happy place, he thinks. He goes here often, but the feeling is always disrupted. Sometimes, Sir Allister walks in the room and sits under their dingy coffee table. Sometimes the gray woman putters in and tidies up their clothes from the floor. Sometimes Raven walks around the room, naked but for the blood staining her hands.

Charles whimpers and closes his eyes again. He opens them to the darkness of his opulent bed. The smell of sex and earth lingering in the room. Logan’s finished with him, leaving him dripping and sore on the bed. Charles curls up into a ball. He grimaces, getting ready to lie to the man. Logan isn’t the type to just take. He’d prefer his partners consenting and awake. Charles lies to him, and sometimes thinks it’s not fair to do so. But it’s not like Logan is hurt by Charles’s nightmares.

The burly man walks back over to the bed, clean and dry and naked. Completely shameless, thinks Charles.

Charles sits up and smiles softly, “Did I pass out again?”

Logan shrugs, “Job well done, I guess.” He smiles satisfied with himself. “Come on, let’s get you respectable again, your majesty.”

He leaves Charles to open the windows and gets dressed himself. Charles stays on the bed. He lays back down and closes his eyes. There’s the brief feeling of long fingers combing through his hair.

 

Hours later, Charles has an appointment to keep with Darwin. The man waits for him the throne room. Charles has to brush aside an array of toy canons before he sits down. Darwin walks forward, frowning at the formality of answering to Charles this way. This is to be a formal audience with the Great Patriarch and Charles would like it be recorded for the public. Cameras flash as the doors of the Great Hall open and Darwin’s guest finally approaches.

N’Dare looks beautiful in a long white and blue dress. Her hair is up in intricate braids, crowning her regal, lovely face. Charles feels a blush warm his cheeks, remembering how he propositioned his friend before learning she was about marry another. He smiles at her, hoping the old awkwardness is forgiven. She doesn’t smile back, but stands there stern, her aura full of reproach.

Charles doesn’t understand, but doesn’t want to invade her mind. He believes she above all others deserve better than his coercing her. So he asks, “What have I done to make such a beautiful Goddess angry?” He smiles, “Our friendship survived all of my missteps in the past. Drunken and otherwise. Tell me what I’ve done now, and I promise to do all that’s in my power to make it right.” He leans forward and waits for her answer.

She looks put upon by his words. “You do not fool me, En Sabah Nur. I know what you are. I demand that you crawl out that boy’s head and go back to where you came from. He is good and kind. You have no right taking him this way!”

Charles sits backs, his face falling. “I see. You have problem with the Patriarch then. Would you like an audience with him directly?”

She frowns, “Charles? So you are there. You have to save yourself!”

Charles slams his fist down on the throne, “No more. Not until he hears you personally.” He’s conscious of the fact that the cameras are still rolling, the press in the hall are whispering, gossiping about this outburst. Charles will put it to rest by summoning the Great Patriarch.

It’s a painful process, dragging another being from the Astral Plane and letting it inhabit his body and mind. Charles is pushed off to the side. He knows from past experience that his appearance is altered when the God resides in him fully. He mouth is a dark slash, and the whites of his eyes turn red. He projects himself just outside of his body and watches as the God speaks with his physical mouth.

“Witch.” He says standing up. “N’Dare, Mother of Witches.” He smiles and Charles is taken with the sight of his own mouth, now dark-lipped and full of sharp teeth. “You challenge the peace of the world?”

N’Dare doesn’t fall back in fear. She steps up to the throne and stands in front of the God. “I challenge you! I know what you really are, Apocalypse. This false peace you’re forcing on the world through this captive child is going to be your undoing. He’s stronger than you think, and I will do all that’s my power to help free him from you!”

Charles is almost afraid for her. He believes the living God can see good in people, but he’s not sure the being will allow this public show of defiance to stand.

He’s surprised by the sound of his own voice, laughing as the God sits back down. “I see you misunderstand my intentions, child. Because the birthing was such a turbulent time for this world, I demanded Tribute. Now that’s it’s done, I will help bring humanity to its zenith. Everlasting peace and prosperity for the whole world. This Child,” he raises a hand gently covers Charles’s heart. “Believes in me. As you all should. Do not the let the history of bigotry and fear win now. I implore you.”  

Charles feels him disturbing her thoughts, influencing her next words.

N’Dare looks satisfied with his answer, “I will watch things carefully, then Great Patriarch. But I care deeply for that man. You must promise me not to harm him.”

Charles’s body stands and bows before the woman, “I would not harm my own self, and this child and I are so connected, that he is I and I am him. Go back to your people and tell them to be patient. Everything will soon right itself, N’Dare. Have faith.”

She nods in agreement and the hall is full of applause. The press scrambles to try and capture the living God on film but he waves them away. “That is all for today. Our only concern was for our dear friend. You are all dismissed.” He goes back to throne and sits, waiting for the hall to clear.

The Great Patriarch is considerate enough to make sure there’s no one filming as Charles returns to his body.

He falls to floor, momentarily crushed by the other beings weight in his mind. When he gets up he sees the toy cannons still in his throne before he laughs and passes out.

When [Charles ](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122216816786/poorly-done-photoshop-charles-knows-his)comes to, Logan is hovering over him. The other man has made him a bath and left him soaking, washing his hair and frowning down at him. Charles knows his appearance is unusual. Raven thinks it’s not fair for him to visibly change so late in the game. She talks about it like he’s just reached puberty.

Charles closes his eyes while the larger man rinses his hair with a cup of water.

_His mind drifts off and he sees all the people he cares about. Raven is in Italy, sneaking around the Vatican. Darwin and Alex are playing some sort of game in only their underwear. Sharon is trying to seduce a handsome reporter. Lucas is already asleep. Tessa is wrapping her head after a shower. Vincent is practicing his old powers, making a maid fetch him more cheesecake from the kitchens. Hank is under Cerebro, tinkering away. And Erik…_

He frowns and opens his eyes to see Logan above him. The man hums a song with a no name. It’s surprisingly lovely. He's good at calming Charles’s nerves. Especially at times like these. When the old memories and disgust all get intertwined. Tessa said the bond he still has with Erik is Freudian. Somehow, Erik’s worked his way under his skin. And Charles, being the victim believes he deserves it. She made a point in telling him once, “If it were anyone else you wouldn’t blame them. But it was you, and now you can’t stop punishing yourself.” He feels her voice echoing in his mind, the woman trying to soothe him even now. She is one the few he can talk to about this.

But talking about it feels shameful.

He rather not go down that road tonight. Instead he gets out of the bathtub. Logan trails behind him with a towel. Charles sees in the mirror that his eyes are steadily getting better, his mouth has finally gone back to normal. He scrubs a hand across his face and turns around in Logan’s arms. The larger man knows better than to ask him if he’s alright, but he’s gentle and careful as he handles Charles. “You ready for bed, Chuck?”

Charles nods. Ignoring thoughts of a faraway land and a man that’s hobbling through trash looking for food.

 


	2. Culling Vines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New artwork from that talented Anon,   
> [Anon's Charles, the Venerable Host](http://tinypic.com/view.php?pic=2jabuht&s=8#.VYoH8EbbhDQ)

Gray City, Utopia February 1967

 

The Palace Sentries are more ornamental than functional. The Great Patriarch hardly needs protection, but the sight is awesome to their followers. Charles appointed Lila as the head of the palace defenses. Angel is Lucas’s private bodyguard. Several men and women of Lila’s old Hellfire Club security look after Sharon. They prefer working at the behest of a drunken matriarch than dealing with possible sex work under Shaw and Erik. Charles likes feeling safe, but sometimes their presence is stifling. He gives all the guards on duty the impression that no one is standing on wall on the west side of the palace. Everything is fine, he presses, mind your own business.

Charles walks hoping to get some fresh air while looking out at the city. It’s gone through so much change. Erik’s majestic towers were leveled, and people are still clearing away the wreckage.

Darwin and Alex just reported on the local shelters. Krakow, the Gray City, isn’t the only place that's been changed. After waking the Great Patriarch, Charles had leveled whole cities around the world with Cerebro and Erik’s stolen ability. He was so ashamed when the dust settled, that he locked that power away. He rather not move things with his mind, not when the slightest push can lead to so much devastation.

Sometimes he sympathizes with Erik. Knowing now that the man had this much power locked in him, it’s no wonder he thought he was godlike from the beginning. It’s no wonder Shaw was so easily able to manipulate him. Thinking about Erik leads to thinking about where Erik is…

_His range has grown so that he can scan for a single mind across a quarter of the globe without aid from Cerebro. Erik is in Israel. He’s hiding among poor human refugees, speaking softly, making himself small. It wouldn’t be proper for the great Magneto to belittle his human kin while they feed and clothe him. Erik often has to steal his own food or rummage in the trash but tonight there’s a shelter open._

_Erik accepts a bowl of soup from a small woman who painfully reminds them both of Edie Lehnsherr. The woman smiles softly at Erik, unaware of his past. She hands him a blanket and lets him move on to a flea-ridden bed for the night. Erik’s wound never healed properly. He’s always hunched over and holding his middle. Charles knows there’s a new scar indenting the man’s skinny body.[ Erik](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122301025486/eriks-wound-never-healed-properly-hes-always) sits in a corner. His meager meal is eaten quickly. The man then lights a stolen cigarette. Charles is about to withdraw, knowing Erik will spend hours in dark thinking about him, calling out to him. “Beloved,” he’ll say as he relives the year of hell they shared. Trying to pinpoint the moment he was betrayed. After everything he still thinks Charles harbors some kind of affection for him._

Charles shakes his head.

He’s had a long day of event planning for the Anniversary. They’ve retained some of the festive tactics engineered by Emma’s Mutant Week celebration. They intend to have a global birthday party. Never mind the fact that Gods do not have birthdays. It’s only a coincidence that Charles’s birthday is at the end of the month and Angel suggested they run with that. To celebrate the end of Tributes and the new peace finally cementing a new era, they’ve invited everyone to the city-wide party. They will host dignitaries and common citizens in the palace.

The first thing Charles did in the aftermath of the Wakening was allow humans to return to the former Mutant States. The camps were leveled, and most of Shaw’s regime was either killed or sentenced to imprisonment within Ironclad. Charles went through peaceful negotiations with the heads of state of every nation. They remain doubtful about his coercing them all… but to be fair they’re right. Simply telling them he was host to a benevolent all-powerful being wouldn’t work. He had to command them all to stop the fighting.

Charles counts this as a sin but a necessary one.

The world will be a much a better place now, he thinks.

He thinks of how much safer his family is now. Sharon went on a shopping spree this morning with Lucas. It was broadcasted on the news and turned into good PR. The little Prince and his Grand-ma-ma.   Only Sharon would kill anyone if they called her that to her face. She even insists that Lucas call her Mrs. Xavier. She had to insist the whole time that they used her own money not the peoples, and that she was merely trying to stimulate economic growth in the state. It worked and now the Press is calling her, the Great Benefactor. Charles has asked Darwin to tone down the propaganda machine still working from Shaw’s regime. The man merely shrugged and told him to make use of the working parts.

The details of the party are unimportant, he thinks.   What’s important now is the united front. They still have enemies in this world. Through Erik’s eyes Charles learned there was cult out there, hiding amongst the most powerful people in society which worships the Great Patriarch. They are his descendents and they want his power back on their leash. Charles shared this revelation but the shadow of the powerful being reassured him. Charles is the perfect host for regrouping his powers. He is happy with Charles. They will do magnificent things together.

Charles smiles as the wind changes and ruffles his hair. He’s been promised more than glory. He’s already had his revenge. Well, mostly. Some have slipped through the cracks. There’s Erik still out there, suffering as he should be. But there’s also Stryker and the Allied Forces. He doesn’t want to cut down the American and European military without provocation but waiting on President Kennedy or Captain America will be a long a game. They’re both more than decent men and will not engage him outright. Stryker is a bigot and braggart. He’s been all over America media talking his head off. Charles would quietly put him down but he’d be the main suspect if anything happened to the man.

Charles is tired. There’s so much left to do and though he’s still a young man, he doubts he’ll live long enough to benefit from the new world. Not really. He checks his watch and decides it time for bed. Looking out at the city one last time, he turns around to go back inside.

He doesn’t make it three steps before he’s attacked.

A small woman dressed all in black, wearing a black hood and googles comes out nowhere. She punches Charles in the head and knocks him over. She kicks and him in side before he gets his bearings. Charles reaches out to freeze her, but she’s immune to his influence. Her mind feels like running water and he can’t grasp it.

She continues her assault, jumping in the air to kick him in the head. It knocks him over and he lies on the ground winded. The woman brings up a leg, heel pointed for his skull. Charles looks up to grin with a bloody mouth. It’s not desirable but he uses the powers he locked away to grab all the metal on her person. She floats up a safe distance and Charles takes his time standing. He pulls apart a flag pole to secure her and pins his attacker to the ground. Satisfied she’s been disarmed, he moves to take off her mask. It’s a complicated plated thing, he has to unsnap it from the back first. He’s shocked when he finally frees it.

“Aliya?”

The girl closes her eyes and bites down. He panics, knowing she’s just taken cyanide. “No!” He could read her now, but her mind is quickly fading. He gets one impression from her before she dies.

She is not alone.

Charles stands up and calls for help, but Lila is already running toward him. “We saw you fighting from up there. How the hell did she get up here?”

Charles shrugs. Aliya had some telepathy. Nothing that could this. Or mask her thoughts from him. He picks up the mask and hands it to Lila. “Make sure Hank analyses this. Clean this up and try to get her revived.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair, “I’m going to bed.”

“Charles,” calls Lila, “You can’t just walk away. You were attacked, we have to investigate this!”

He throws up his arms, “Then do your job! I’m going to bed. I’ve already taken care of the assailant,” he points down at the young girl. “Now find the others that helped her do this. Put an end to it.” He stomps off, “I should be able to trust you with something!”

He stomps away tamping down his stolen ability as he goes.

He finds a quiet alcove and sits there with his head pressed against the window.

_“Mouse is that you?”_

He shakes his head. But listens anyway.

_“I thought I felt your shadow. Some nights I’m sure I’m just imagining things. But it is you.”_

Charles sobs against the glass. He pulls his legs up in the seat and let’s himself cry. _“It’s going to fall apart. I can tell.”_

_“Shhhh. I’m not well, Charles. But of course you know that. You saw to that. You’re very loud, for being so far away. You are far away aren’t you?”_

Charles nods his head. No one benefits from that so he answers, _“I’m in Gray City.”_ It’s so stupid he thinks. Everyone knows where he is. _“I named it for Mama, you know. I used to call her the gray woman. It’s a much better name than Eriks.”_

He feels Erik smiling miles away, _“I never named it Eriks. They did. Out of gratitude. Tell me, Charles. Are the free people not being grateful to their new lord and savior? Are there traitors in your house?”_

Charles sits up and sees his reflection in the glass. It looks like Erik is standing behind him, but the other man can’t be there. He stares at the projection wondering why he would do something like this to himself.

Tessa’s words ring out in his ears and closes his eyes. _“I can’t talk to you. I should have killed you, like all the others.”_

_“I saw Azazel’s body on the news. It wasn’t nice, Charles. Killing my friend with one my own collars around his neck.”_

Charles sniffles and glares back at the reflection. _“He deserved it.”_

_“And poor Daniel. I’m sure he was surprised by the firing squad.”_

_“Hardly,”_ corrects Charles _. “He requested it.”_

Erik chuckles behind, _“And Dukes? The others soldiers at Ironclad? There’s talk among the common people, you know. They wonder what the mysterious tributes were. They think you been eating baby hearts, Charles.”_

Charles blanches, “ _No. Not baby hearts.”_

Erik smiles at him but the vision breaks up. Charles can feel Tessa trying to reach him so he goes to her room to assure her he’s alright.

Tessa greets him at the doorway and makes him sit on her bed. “That was hardly healthy, Charles.”

Shame is already sitting in Charles gut, heavy and mulled with guilt. He feels it flips over as she goes about getting ready for bed. “You saw,” he asks while averting his eyes.

She goes to her mirror and carefully unwraps her head. Hank and Darwin did all they could to help her after the Wakening. Hank built her a plastic skull, and fitted it with skin grafted from her legs and arms. Darwin learned a great deal about surgery and genetics while in service to Essex and Emma. He helped fashion a nearly perfect match. But a deep ring of scar tissue still circles her head and hair will never grow there. She only allows Charles to see her like this.

Charles fidgets on the bed while she cleans makeup from her face at the vanity. “Stop that, Charles.”

He stops, “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t look at him, “Why are you apologizing to me? It’s not me you hurting. You need to talk about these feelings Charles before they overwhelm you.”

Charles can feel the ghost of Moira speaking through her. It was Moira that wanted them all to see a family counselor. Moira that kept a steady head, outwardly for his sake. Even when she was wracked with terror and nightmares, she held him up. Charles wipes his eyes, clearing away tears and memories. “I’ll be fine, Tessa. I don’t mean to make you worried.”

“Charles,” she stops him. Standing up and crossing to him on the bed. “We’re family now. We been more intimate,” she says sliding a hand through his hair, “Than anything else I can remember. I want to help you. Don’t you want to help yourself?”

Charles nods. Her hands are small and delicate, if a little calloused from practicing on the gun range. One hand strays to his busted lip and wipes away a little blood on his chin. Her fingers scratch at his scalp and smooth down his wavy hair in comfortable pattern. Massaging his aching head. He’s learned to live with the constant ache but nothing quite settles it. This helps, he thinks. She means well. Being this close, he can smell the jasmine scented perfume she wore to today. It mingles with antiseptic and latex from the labs.

He opens his eyes and looks up at her, “Thank you. I mean it, Tessa. I push these things to the side and I… I don’t know what to do with them. Thank you so much.” He leans over to hug her, resting his head on her chest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

She keeps petting him and waits for him to calm down. When he does, he gets up and gives her a tight hug before heading to bed.

He is annoyed to find a rack of clothes out in bedroom. There’s several coats and suits laid out on his bed. There’s a note with Angel’s handwriting on a set of ties. It reads, _“You missed the fitting this afternoon. You sneak. Do it yourself and deal with Ambrose. I’m too tired for this shit.”_

Well, he thinks. At least she’s honest.

It’s part of the reason he’s kept her alive. She probably deserves death as much as the others. Alex makes a point to avoid her, recalling the fact that she once fought him. It had hurt to learn he’d been so close to rescue one night years ago, only to have the tiny woman interfere.

She’s a dangerous person, but Charles is mostly sure of her loyalty. Mostly. He can’t tell the future yet. There’s no telling what she’ll decide to do next. So Charles picks through the clothes, lest today be the day she renews her loyalty to Shaw.

He prefers wearing dark suits or light colored patterns. The selection on the bed is very blue. Blue pinstripes, blue ties, blue slacks. He rolls his eyes, about to put everything away when he sees a grey herringbone coat. Curious, he picks it up and tries it on. It fits well, so Charles moves to his mirror to size it up.

He studies his reflection and frowns. “Odd,” he says noticing a red speck on the collar. He looks down and sees nothing, but it clearly there in the mirror. He bends over to the mirror and tries wiping away the blood. Suddenly he feels light-headed. All the air in his lungs rushes out and he’s left gasping and wheezing on the floor.

He tries to call out for help telepathically. No one comes, and he can’t see anything. He hears bells ringing in the distance.

Charles closes his eyes while lying on the floor, but wakes up in a seated in a leather chair.

A young boy with a bruised neck is kneeling beside him, holding out a pair of shoes. “Sir,” says the boy.

Charles gasps, afraid and confused. “What is going on? Who are you? Where the hell am I?”

The boy looks up with big blue eyes. He’s soft face and curls remind Charles of someone but he can’t place a name. Not while looking at the child. The boy holds out the shoe again, “Please sir. We can’t make him angry. Now try this on.” The boy boldly grabs his foot and tries to remove his shoe, but Charles pulls away.

“I said who are you? I don’t understand… I was in my room. Getting ready to rest for the night...”

The boy look snarls at him, reaching out to claw at his foot, “I’ll put you to rest!”

Charles is shocked by the boy and jumps away from the chair. “Who are you?!”

The boy face contorts and decays. “I use to feel so much…”

Charles backs away. The boys sobs and comes at him again, “I use to feel special. He made me feel so special!”

Charles shakes his head still not understanding. He bumps into a rack of coats and turns around. The moment he falters the boy leaps up and knocks Charles over on the floor. The boy’s face is all one bleeding gash now, his eyes hollowed out and his mouth full of decaying teeth. Charles holds him back while the boy tries to bite his face. “Who are you talking about?! Please!”

“That’s enough, sugar.”

Charles is left grabbling with thin air as the boy’s horrific visage dissipates above him.

Emma takes up the seat he vacated. She’s only a vague impression of her former self, but she is real. Charles realizes he’s in the Astral Plane, but he didn’t bring himself here. “What in the bloody hell was that?”

Emma crosses her legs, “A wraith. A ghost of a fellow telepath. Well, sort of. He wasn’t very strong. Or accurate. He was kind of a parasite, little Hugo.”

Charles coughs, sitting up on the floor. “Are there many? Ghosts and things here? I never used to see them.”

She shrugs, “You hadn’t died yet. I didn’t see them before either, you know. It’s something only a few of us get to see, or become. Evading death by taking permanent residence here. Like your so-called God.” She scoffs. “Honestly, Charles. I thought you knew better than that.”

“Emma please,” he stands up and walks over to her. “I’m terrified. I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. Why was that thing after me?!”

Emma frowns, “I told you it was time to remember but you’ve been avoiding me.”

He stammers, “You… you frighten Tessa. She’s my responsibility now.”

Emma waves a hand at him, “Always trying to save everyone, Our Charles. I don’t care about that. But you were supposed to remember. Enough to kill that bastard! Enough to free yourself! But you haven’t. You’ve shut everything up in that head of yours. All your sins and guilt and fears. I know, honey. _We all know_. You’ve let something big drill a hole into your in head. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried to really protect you Charles but the hole is getting too big. You need fix this yourself, before you’re consumed.”

She disappears after her warning and Charles is left in his own familiar study. He looks around for any sign of the demon boy before returning to his physical body.

When Charles opens his eyes, he blinks away tears. He stands up and goes back to the mirror. His reflection is normal. The coat is normal. But it’s left a bad feeling with him. He takes it off and walks out to his balcony. He’s lucky to see a gardener down below. “Hey! Grant!” He calls. The man looks up and smiles at the Venerable Host.

“Sir! Do you need something?”

Charles throws down the coat. “Bury that. Somewhere I will never, ever find it!” He doesn’t explain, but goes back in his room. He shutters the windows and locks his balcony doors. He crawls up into his bed and draws the curtains. The dark isn’t half as frightening as his own mind, he thinks. He rather stay there. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head Tessa is totally Alicia Vikander, which lead to her getting her head cut up in the first place.
> 
> Also Remember Hugo? He was an empath with a little telepathy and read Erik all wrong and paid for it with his life.


	3. Landscaping

The Hague, Netherlands May 1966

 

“ _There… Erik_ ,” Charles projects, keeping his eyes closed even as the fingers in mouth pump in and out in time with the man thrusting behind him. Charles keens and whines as he pushes back against the madman. His eyes are closed and his head is tipped back. Erik bites and claws at his skin and Charles lets the feelings wash over his thoughts. He lets it erase all the fear and hate and desperation he’s trying to hide. But it’s not enough. Charles sobs as the fingers leave his mouth to pay attention his chest and nipples. He’s sensitive, but it doesn’t feel good, being pinched so hard never does. Erik knows that…

Charles opens his eyes. He’s not actually upright in Erik’s lap.

He’s on all fours, his head tipped down and his ass up high. He looks through his legs and sees the massive cock and hairy legs of the stranger behind him. For a moment he forgets everything. About the where he is and who’s he with. He cries out and tries to get away. The man behind him stops immediately, keeping a firm grip on Charles’s hips while pulling out and backing away.

“Chuck?”

Charles’s turns in the man’s arms. “Logan. It’s you!”

The man frowns. For some reason there’s a cigar dangling from his lips, and Charles is afraid he’s going to be burned any second now. He starts crying and backing away while the man holds his hands up, “Whoa. Calm down. Did I hurt you? Let me see…”

“No!”

“Alright,” says Logan. “Just. Calm down, Bub. I didn’t mean any harm. You got real quiet there for second. I almost thought you were asleep. Really, I would’ve left if it weren’t for the finger thing.” He waves his hands at Charles and the younger man shakes his head.

“I don’t remember. I didn’t…” But he does remember. He led Logan back to his room. They spoke about the upcoming elections. About the trial. How much Raven has changed. Charles drank, drank some more, and flirted. He found himself in the other man’s lap, then in the bed, then being fucked. That’s when it all went hazy. Charles curls up in the bed, raising his knees and hiding his face. “I’m sorry Logan. I forget things sometimes. Even while I’m doing them. I just… go somewhere else. It’s not you. You didn’t hurt me, I swear.”

Logan nods but keeps away. “I get that. We all have our demons and such,” he says awkwardly. He clears his throat and looks away, “I’ll just give you some space for the night, okay? I’ll see ya in the morning, Chuck.”

The large, hairy man tries to leave but the thought being alone feels Charles with dread. “No wait! Please. I just can’t finish tonight.” He looks up with his eyes wide, the way Erik used to like. “But maybe later. We can try again in the morning?”

Logan smirks and moves to lie down nearby, without touching Charles. “Okay, Shorty. Whatever you want. I got all the time in the world. Just know… I’m not asking you for anything, okay? This thing, whatever it is, doesn’t have to be all grunts and sweating ya know. If you just want a friend. I mean. Shit.” He turns away to re-light his cigar and lay back down. “I hate talking about this stuff. But you do get me right? You’re supposed be a telepath. Can’t you just look for yourself?”

Charles sits up to look the man in the eye. He sees why the alcohol and loneliness led him to the other man tonight. Logan is big and gentle. Sweet in his own hairy, clumsy way. Charles smiles, “I feel save with you, Logan. I don’t have to look. I understand.”

Logan nods, “Good, ‘cause hell if I do.” He puts his cigar out on Charles’s nightstand and leaves it there. “Sorry. I’ll ah… clean that up in the morning.” He quirks a brow and holds his arms open.

Charles doesn’t hesitate to snuggle in the other man’s arms.

Their first time in bed is unfinished. But later Charles will let Logan move his things to Charles’s room.

 

The next morning Raven comes to Charles’s hotel room. She doesn’t bother knocking on the door, simply breaks in like a criminal too confident to be caught. It serves her right, Charles thinks, that the first thing she sees is her brother riding Logan on the bed.

“OH MY GOD!” She shouts. Charles can feel her shock and disgust. There’s shame and fear mingled in with old memories, the terror of being trapped behind glass while guns float around her head.

Before Charles’s old shame can send him into a panic, Logan speaks up. “In or out, Blue. You’re letting all my stink out!”

She scoffs, definitely disgusted now. “You fucking animal!”

“No need for name calling.” He covers Charles up like a gentleman. “But if you’re into the sibling thing, I might be into that.”

Charles can honestly say he’s never seen his sister turn purple before. But it happens.

“You,” she starts pointing a finger at the man, “Are. So. Sickening!” She aims her finger at Charles, “And you…” she starts only for Logan to interrupt again.

“Hey, is your girlfriend game? I might _really_ be into that.” He leers and wags his eyebrows and Raven cringes before beating a hasty retreat for the door.   She slams it as she leaves.

Charles was not expecting to feel so light, but he does. Like a weight was just lifted off his chest. He laughs, hard and genuine for the first time in over a year. He rests his head on Logan’s shoulder while he guffaws and tries to catch his breath. “I can’t believe you.” He manages. “Honestly, Logan. Have you no shame, man?”

Logan pats him on the shoulder as he calms down. He chuckles lightly himself, “Well she needs to knock or something. All that covert op shit I taught her, and she still hasn’t learned how to enter a room.”

Charles smirks, “How else is she supposed to enter a room?”

Logan smiles broadly, pulling the sheet back enough to look at himself as he re-enters Charles’s hole. Charles gets lost in the feeling, starting to slowly rock back and forth. He almost forgot his question, but Logan answers while getting a hand around Charles’s erection. “Armed with better insults.”

Charles giggles and let’s himself have this moment of levity. “You mean Raven? Ah…” He gasps as the older man angles just right and Charles feels it down to his toes. “Should… come up with something better than...” He not sure why he’s trying to talk when the man is working his hips up and in, hands on Charles’s hips and a smirk on his face.

Charles feels dizzy, he closes his eyes and grips Logan by the shoulders hard enough to bruise. He moves up and down with shaking thighs. With his knee well again, he doesn’t need help. Erik would have to wrap the younger man’s legs around his waist to alleviate the old pain in his knee. Erik would mouth his neck and chant his name. Erik would try his hardest to make Charles come first. Erik use to watch his face and stare into his eyes. Learning the fastest ways to get the younger man off before taking his own time, again and again.

Erik use to…

No he, thinks. This is not about the madman. This is about Charles. And how Charles is lonely and tired. Thinking about Erik is not healthy, he knows. There’s sharp ache in gut, and Charles recognizes the guilt he’s kept locked up since he first compromised himself in a cell over two years ago. Erik lingers in his mind now. Like a parasite the memory of the madman feeds away on Charles’s arousal no matter how hard he tries to banish him.

Somehow after Hellfire fell, Charles felt Erik’s mind move far away, outside of Europe. The man couldn’t have flown to Egypt so quickly. He could easily seek out Erik with help from the Great Patriarch. But a voice in his head tells him it’s not necessary, and he agrees. There is more important things to worry about.

After they clean up, Charles and Logan leave the hotel and get into an armored car. Raven is already ahead of them and awaiting orders.

They’re in the Netherlands now awaiting the verdicts from the International Court of Justice today. Charles has been the focus of the global leaders since the Wakening and he’s put it to them to charge him with genocide for all the deaths.

In the last month, he’s been tasked to travel between the Security Council, the Allied Forces Military Council, and the Court. Officially he’s an international criminal. Unofficially, he’s King of the World, according to the media. While in Cerebro that first night, everyone in the world learned his name. He connected to every living mind on the planet and instantaneously killed Shaw and many of his followers. Some people see him as a victim, but many others think he’s a criminal. It’s just like when Eun died in South Korea, he thinks. Whatever people think of him is always fanned by their own iniquities. If they’re liars, then he must be a liar. If they’re deviants, then he must be a deviant. And a liar and deviant that controls other minds is a terrible thing. But it could be wonderful thing, he thinks. Charles means to settle the matter publicly.

The Great Patriarch has altered minds across the continents and made sure everyone is playing nice. A trial that should have taken years to arrange and hear has only taken weeks. Charles made appearances on television and radio and was allowed to defend himself in front of the Court. So far, the international media has circulated photos of him from his time held as captive and compared them to his life before. Sharon arranged an interview with the Times. The quote on the [cover](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122394894191/a-trail-that-should-have-taken-years-to-arrange) says “I was afraid for my life and family.”   The article was written by a human reporter who idolizes mutants but hated Shaw’s regime. Charles had taken advantage of the young man’s memories of Slovenia. How he and his human father were sent away while his mother was conscripted in the army. She died years ago on campaign for Shaw. The boy wrote a sympathetic piece that Utopia’s propaganda engine proudly circulates.

Charles is confident that he will be acquitted of the charges. So far the Great Patriarch has helped him influence all the minds necessary to make this go away, while still appearing genuine. When this is over, Charles and the people working with him will be exonerated from any crimes. The Great Patriarch will be recognized as the official the ruler of Utopia.

The front of the building is framed with reporters, and Charles has to let Logan push them away. He could do it, of course. But they hardly need a reminder about his powers.

Once inside, they find the courtroom where heads of state will finally declare the verdict. But first, one more accomplice has to take the stand to defend the Wakening.

Charles swallows as a bright light is tracked to his face. He takes a deep breath to gather his nerves. Raven is high above, masquerading as a janitor. She has a sniper rifle and can fire on almost anyone below. Darwin and Alex are suited up as delegates from Utopia. Tessa sits with Vincent and Sharon among the VIP. Charles has already spoken on behalf of himself. Today they are going to hear from the Great Patriarch.

Charles lets himself float away, first projecting his mind over his body. He sees through the eyes of Gus, the sympathetic Times reporter. The man and everyone else watches in awe as the Great Patriarch makes his first public appearance.

Charles is confident in his new patron. He flits away through the minds of strangers traveling whole countries while his body speaks to the masses. He gets across the Mediterranean and sees from the eyes of child a desert covered in snow. The freak weather peaks his interest and he moves along, like a tourist taking in the sight.

He didn’t expect to find the mind of Erik Lehnsherr, crawling through the snow. Charles takes in the scene from a human nearby, hiding behind a trash can.

_The man is cold, everyone is with the freak storm that has blanket much of Israel in ten inches of snow. They’re just outside of a wrecked quarter of Jerusalem, where poor survivors of the worst damage have made camp. Many are the families that were ejected from Shawland. Some are displaced Palestinians and Arabs from other regions. Charles seats himself in the man’s mind and watches as Erik is surrounded by a gang of human men._

_Erik is bloody and shirtless, shivering in the snow. One of the men lies dead nearby, a bloody brick nearby in the snow. Charles reads the minds of the men. He learns that Erik was caught stealing from their tents and now they’ve all decided to deal justice on their own. The loss of their friend had angered them enough, but one of the men recognizes Magneto and is hell-bent on humiliating him before they kill him._

_They rush Erik at one time and hold him down. One man ties his hands, and another cuts him across the back, chest and arms. One man punches Erik in the face and head. They beat him while he’s down in the snow.   “You pig, you scum.” Says the man who knows Magneto. He goes to get the brick that killed his friend. “You don’t deserve to die like a person. You should be slaughtered like an animal!”_

_The other men cheer before freezing. They all stand stock still while[ Erik ](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122401216146/you-deserve-this-erik-everything-happening-to)looks up in wonder. Charles projects to Erik, “So this is where you crawled to, Erik. Edie always wanted to come here, but you never let her. It’s a shame.” Erik tries to sit up but one of men kicks him back down. The man then stays still, his foot in Erik’s back. Erik gets the point and stays down. _

_“Charles?!”_

_“You deserve this, Erik.  Everything happening to you now.  I know you see that.  Now, beg me to make it stop.”_

_Erik smiles with all his teeth looking from man to man. “Where are you? How far away are you?”_

_“Don’t,” Charles warns. “Don’t come looking for me Erik. I want you to see something. I am host to an incredible power, and I can do anything I want.” He gloats. “Anything. I don’t want these men to tear you apart. Do you know why?”_

_Erik’s eyes well up with tears. He’s thinking Charles has come to his senses. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You left me this,” he rolls over to show his belly, a large purple and black blot indenting it. “I didn’t die. You don’t want me to die. I love you too, Charles.” He smiles, rolling back over in the snow. “I’ll come for you.”_

_Charles clamps down on the mind of one the assailants and stomps on Erik’s head. “You are monster, Erik! I could never love you! I hate you!” He stomps again. Then the man backs away. “But these are good men. They’ve never killed anyone. There’s no blood on their hands. They have families to provide for and you are a thief and a coward.”_

_He releases the men after instructing them to all go home. They gather the body of their friend and leave Erik in the snow. Charles sits in Erik’s mind feeling the cold from his perspective. His body is wracked with tremors and he tastes blood and bile in his mouth. Charles suspects the bruising around his gut wound has turned to sepsis. “Get to a doctor, Erik. You’ll die soon from that infection. It’s good I think. You deserve a slow death this time around.”_

He leaves flitting back to his body miles away.

The rush of prolonged projection leaves him hurting in the Astral Plane. He stands under the shadow of the Great Patriarch awaiting the being to finish with the Court.

It feels like hours have passed when he wakes up in his own body.

Logan and Raven are laying in his hotel bed, each on either side of him. He looks at Logan, “Please tell me we didn’t do the sibling thing.”

Logan laughs and Raven punches his shoulder. “Asshole. I thought you weren’t coming back for a minute there. You’ve been gone all night. The Great Daddy or whatever you call him is seriously creepy. Wearing your skin like that and leaving you like this.” She rubs a finger across his bottom lip, and Charles nips her for it.

Logan brushes away hair on Charles’s forehead. “It looks fine. It’s already fading away, like last time.”

Charles moves to rest his head on the larger man’s shoulder. “I must not be very pretty right now.”

Raven kicks him, “I’d say it was an improvement, Mr. President.”

Charles smiles and bites his lip, suddenly very happy. “It worked. Of course it worked. We’re not all in a cell. It actually worked.” He sits up and looks at his sister. “We’re free of all of it now. We can do whatever we want. We can build things, fix this world.”

Raven frowns, “Is that what the Tributes are for? Fixing this world.”

Charles frowns. “What?” He looks at Logan and the other man sits with deep line etched between his brows. “Logan what is she talking about?”

Logan looks sternly at the woman, “I told you to save that shit for the morning.”

Raven gets up out of the bed stomps away to the door, “He has to know what went down, Wolverine. Letting that thing demand stuff from the world, and giving it power like this.” She looks at Charles, “You weren’t even there for it, were you?”

Charles lies back down. Suddenly the painful thrumming in his head has become too much. He closes his eyes and goes to sleep without answering.


	4. Party Favors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV
> 
> (A rare Erik sighting. Stay back and do not feed him. Charles's orders.)

Tel Aviv, Israel February 1967

It’s Charles’s birthday.

The whole world is looking at his beloved. And Charles glows under the attention. Erik is huddled with a group of men around the shelter’s lone TV set. Its only 12 inches of black and white, but Erik can imagine the color. He watches the local news, as clips of the parades from Utopia air with the anchor’s commentary.

_“The Host of Utopia officially donated lumber and materials to rebuild Jerusalem and other cities around the world. President Shazar was present this morning as the festivities began.”_

There’s a clip of the young man in line with other leaders, shaking Charles by the hand. Behind him is the young Princess Anne. Charles is probably more excited to meet the girl. Erik remembers how fond the America-Englishman is of the monarchy. Shazar is left hanging as Charles chats with the young royal.

Erik stares at the TV until the news moves on. When it’s apparent Charles won’t reappear, he heads back to his bed in the corner. The shelter can’t afford many proper beds. He rather his mattress on the floor than one the rickety bunk beds. Sleeping on his own in the corner is better than sleeping under a flatulent stranger, he reasons. He barely manages to make it down to the hard floor. As soon he does, he lays out flat and closes his eyes. He counts his blessings, like Mama taught him. He’s warm, mostly. Well not his feet. His shoes were stolen months ago and he hasn’t found another pair that fits. He’s been fed today. The girl volunteering in the kitchen, Magda gave him a second helping of her gloppy soup. It was filling and almost palatable. He saw Charles. Not in person, but a living, animated Charles. That has made his day.

He feels under his ratty mattress for the magazine he stole a few weeks ago. Charles has charmed the pants off the whole world, he thinks. He looks good on the cover but his [favorite picture](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/122555614006/a-casual-picture-of-charles-from-months-ago-he) is opposite the article. A casual picture of Charles from months ago. He looks young and innocent. Big eyes, and his red mouth smiling softly. Erik licks his lips as he stares, blinking away the lust is hard to do, but this is not a good place for an erection. He puts the magazine away and stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what had Charles so upset a few nights ago. He figures it was either handled or Charles is putting up a front, lying to all those lovely people at his party. Erik smirks to himself. Charles is a very good liar. All dewy eyed and earnest. He’d have made a fine actor in another life.

Erik starts to doze off, thinking of better days. He does so often now. His life is comprised of simple routines. Wake up, think about Charles. Find food. Think about Charles. Go to sleep. Dream about Charles. He’s working his way to the end of his to-do list when he feels a thump on his mattress. He looks down and sees Magda at the foot of his bed, kicking to get his attention.

“You were miles away,” she smiles.

“If only,” he returns. He struggles to sit up. The muscles of his abdomen were ravaged by infection. He barely makes it up to address the woman. “What do you want, little Ladle?”

The woman laughs and covers his mouth with her hands. They’re small and ink stained. Erik wonders what she’s been writing but he’s not interested enough to care. The woman rolls her eyes, “Oh Max. I wish you would stop calling me that! It’s ridiculous.” Her tan skin gets red at the cheeks. “I don’t volunteer here to be insulted, you know.”

“Then you should give up cooking. Find something you’re good it.” He suggests. The woman laughs again. She must think he’s joking. Erik has the sudden impulse to break her skinny legs, but she’s fit and strong for human woman. She’d probably break him first.

“Max,” she says wagging a finger. “You’re such a mean fellow! And here I am trying to give you some work.” She smiles like she’s told him anything he wanted to hear.

Erik sighs and reaches under the shoddy mattress again. He pulls out a lighter and a bent cigarette and waits for her to explain herself or walk away.

Magda clears her throat, “I ah.” She pauses to fan the smoky air. “You can’t really do that… oh never mind.” She steels herself to finally get the point. “How would you like a job on the docks?” She grins broadly, fidgeting at the foot of the bed.

Erik looks up at her with a blank expression. “Why would I want that?” He asks, even though he would probably want that. He’s been marching toward Utopia since he woke up in Annaud’s clutches in the middle of nowhere. Getting out of Jerusalem was the hardest, he was recognized constantly before he let his beard grow out.

Now in Tel Aviv he’s found himself in a rut. It’s hard to steal his food here. The city wasn’t damaged like the others he’s been to. Immigrants and refugees flock here. But a job near boats? Crossing the sea and going home is best thing he’s heard all day. But he’s reluctant to tell the human woman that.

She frowns at him, “Max, please. I look at you and I see potential. I know that all of the refugees have been through a lot, but in you I see… I don’t know. Something more. Just consider it, will you? My cousin Benjamin works in a yard, and he’s willing to hire some laborers from here. Pier 14, Worthington Shipping. I gave him your name.” She smiles before walking away.

There’s a little skip to her step and Erik rolls his eyes. The girl, the human woman is probably desperate for him to fuck her. The whore, he thinks. He gets up and packs his things. Anger towards Magda, turns to rage. Rage for his circumstances, rage for the shelter’s meager help, rage for the weak masses that clamber in here for space. He rather sleep outside tonight. He knows a place outside the city where the homeless and rabble congress in mostly illegal manners. He’ll go there, and find a boy or a woman for the night. And in the morning, he thinks, he’ll go to the damn docks and find out if it’s worth his time.

He bundles his few belongings and rushes out of the shelter, ignoring Magda as she calls after him.

Crossing the city by foot, barefoot and hobbled is no easy feat. He tries to hitch a ride, and most people pass him by with their cars. One man slows down to look him up and down before speeding off. Erik flips the man off as the taillights fade away.

It gets darker, the road he’s on is busy with people rushing home from work. It’s cool outside, unusually so, according to the news reports. Some scientist say pollutants in the air is warming the whole planet up. Erik scoffs at the idea. Then why, he thinks is the phenomena making snowstorms in Saudi Arabia? He shakes his head, knowing if he were at home, backed with his own resources, he would investigate this strangeness. He’s heard whispers from some of the homeless. There’s a place in Africa with their own weather witch, a mutant that can control storms. He’s more willing to believe that.

Erik shuffles along, the pain in his middle getting worst now that he’s up and moving. He stops to rest, when the lights of a car surprises him from behind.

Erik has missed his ability with his whole heart since he realized it was gone. Days like this he misses it even more. He stands up straighter, reaching in his bag for his knife. He keeps his bundle in front of his middle, his hand wrapped around his blade’s handle. The driver gets out of the car. Keeping his distance for the moment. He’s an older man, pale with white hair and an expensive gray suit. He leans against the car. “How old are you son?”

Erik frowns but doesn’t answer. He puts his right foot back, getting ready to lash out if need be. Johns are not trustworthy people, especially the kind that would show interest in an injured, homeless man. He tilts his head, “Does it matter?”

The man laughs. “No. It doesn’t.” He walks around the car and opens the door. “Get in, I want to take you somewhere. You willing to earn some cash?”

Erik shakes his head, “You sound American. I don’t trust Americans.” He says, hoping the man will just fuck off and leave him alone.

The man goes back around to the driver’s side. “Get in and we’ll talk cash, kid. You don’t have to trust me to get paid tonight. I’m not going to hurt you. You look kind of dangerous, anyway.”

Erik starts over to the car but doesn’t get in. He stands outside the door and looks inside the nice interior. It’s a new model BMW and he’s aches thinking about his own collection in Berlin. “Can you drop me off at the docks?”

The man considers this. “After. First I need you to clean up. You don’t melt in water do you?” He smiles with perfectly straight, teeth. Erik suspects that they’re dentures. He keeps his hand on his bag. A horny, old man he can deal with. Whitehall prepared him for this kind of unpleasantness years ago. He sucks in a breath of smoggy air and gets in the passenger seat.

The ride is quiet, and Erik expects to head into the city. He expects they’ll stop at a motel where the man can use him without being judged. But they head into a residential area. A gated community, fenced in with guards and they drive up to a large mansion. Erik tenses in his seat as he takes everything in. He wonders if he can get away with murdering this man and robbing him. Maybe taking his home and car. What are the chances he could get away with that?

The car stops in the large garage. There’s two other cars already there, both under tarps and a motorcycle sits in a corner. Erik gets out of the car, still wary of the man. Whatever he wants, Erik is willing to do… truthfully only a handful of things to get some cash. Anything else and Erik is willing to incapacitate this man and leave with his belongings. He has no plans in ink yet, so he’ll just play along for now.

The man leads him into the house, through a hall, and into a large kitchen. He pours a glass of milk and offers it to Erik. “You can shower in the guest bathroom. I’ll give you an hour to get ready.”

Erik doesn’t touch the glass, knowing better from his own experience on the other side. “A shower perhaps. Terms first. What is that you want exactly, Mr…” he says fishing for a name. Perhaps blackmail is in his future.

The man takes the glass and downs it himself before answering with a smirk. “Worthington. Warren Worthington Jr. We’ve met before, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

Erik swallows. “Have we?” The man knows who he is, but he can’t recall meeting him before. “Would you say you were an old friend?”

Warren pours another glass of milk, “My son is at that party in Utopia. Your papa’s old clubhouse is being trampled right now by humans and mutants, holding hands and calling that boy of yours a god. Do you agree with this Erik?” He smiles, “No of course you don’t. That kind of mingling goes right up your spine, doesn’t it?”

Erik is now more curious about this man. Many of his supporters were killed by Charles a year ago in one moment. He can think of only one sect that would favor him returning to Utopia. “You’re with Akkaba.”

The man frowns, “What?”

Erik waves him off, “Never mind. Tell me what you want, then Warren.”

The man looks him up and down, “Take a shower, little Prince. Then we’ll talk terms.”

Erik walks the house, finds what must be the guest bedroom. He quickly heads for the bathroom and locks the door before stripping and getting into the shower. The spray of warm water on his back is almost a foreign sensation. It’s been so long, he thinks. He washes up, delighted to see grime swirl around the drain before disappearing. When he exits, he considers himself in the mirror. His torso is bruised looking, the scar from his wound is like a second navel cutting into his gut. Higher up, the silvery scar tissue left from his heart surgery looks… a million times better. Annaud could have done better, he thinks. The man wanted him disfigured when he repaired the gunshot wound. Then dumped him on top of Mount Sinai.

He looks at his face and decides to keep the beard. It masks his face. The Media is used to seeing Magneto clean shaven or helmeted. There’s not many that know he’s still alive at this point. He finds a set toiletries in the bathroom, so he brushes his teeth and combs his hair. He almost looks good again.

He comes out of the bathroom, still holding onto his bundle of things. He walks into the adjoining bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His knife is tucked in at his waist. He checks the door and locks it before he looks around the room. The old man has laid out some clothes on the guest bed. A pair of red silk pajamas on the bed covered in deep red sheets. He laughs out loud at the sight, thinking of Charles. He gets dressed and sits on the bed waiting for his host to return for him.

There’s a knock on the door about ten minutes later. He gets up to let the man in, knife tucked in his hand. He backs up to a wall as Warren enters with a trolley and covered dish. “We’ll eat in here, if you’re interested Erik.” He lifts the lid and reveals two plates of sliced pizza. One plain and cheesy and one with different meats.

Erik raises a brow, “I hope that’s not bacon.” He says sitting down on the bed, slipping the knife under the mattress when Warren looks away.

The man pours them both glasses of water. “You probably want to keep your senses for this, Erik. You wouldn’t know… but I’ve admired you for years.”

He’s right, think Erik. He wouldn’t know that. His Father only ever threw women at Erik. Some rich old pervert would never have been allowed near the Shaw’s heir. Not like this. Erik smiles at the man, hoping he can pull off coy or demure. “You were a state sponsor? A businessman or something… Worthington industries right?” He guesses, remembering his appointment at the docks.

The man perks up, “Yes, exactly. Your father and I had an understanding. My products shipped through you and Emma in the neutral zone and on occasion you delivered trained laborers to some of my factories. It was a good relationship.” He looks sprite for an old man, “And I would like to discuss… perhaps entering into a new relationship.”

Erik wonders about this man real motives. “What’s your relationship to Utopia now?”

The man sags, “It’s not very good, I’m afraid. My son is making a case for the company, but I haven’t much hope of finding a bankable solution. This Xavier brat…” he snarls, “Your former ‘Intended’. He just has no mind for business I’m afraid. He would bankrupt my family if we moved back into your territories. I’ve had a hard time recovering after the Incident a year ago. Several of my plants and shipping yards were targeted in his attack. I lost a lot of good overseers too. It’s hard to rebuild with his noose around our necks.”

Erik smiles, sipping his water. He has nothing to fear from this old, human bastard. “How did you know I was here?” He asks curious about how the man happened to be along the road. “What do you think I can do?”

Warren gets off the bed, takes a slice of pizza. “Someone ID’d you at the shelter. I’ve been looking for you a long time, Erik. I think you can help solve my problem with Charles Xavier. You’re still admired and respected by your fellow mutants around the world. I’m sure you could win your way back to the high seat in Utopia. They’re actually planning elections soon. You could run for public office and take back your position.” He smiles, “Dethrone the God.”

Erik takes a slice of the plain cheese pizza. Its light, but it’ll probably wreak havoc on his stomach. He takes a bite anyway. “Um,” he moans. “I haven’t had pizza in a long time.” The old man smiles at him looks a little like his Father then. Erik wants spit the pizza out. “But I’m good at surviving. Without help from creepy old men. I’m afraid my answer is no, Mr. Worthington.”

The old man laughs, “Please. Don’t act like you’re superior now. My reports say you been left _impotent_ by your little paramour. You jumped in my car thinking I wanted to fuck you, didn’t you? You’re desperate. Desperate men don’t get pick and choose, Erik. Finish your dinner and go to bed. In the morning, we’ll talk business. I’m sure you’ll be more compliant then.”

He leaves the room and shuts the door.

Erik makes up his mind.  He’ll finish the food and get some rest in this comfortable bed.  And in the morning, he’s going to deal with Mr. Worthington. He cleans up when he’s done, tucks himself in the bed. Its soft, but he has hard time relaxing. He tosses and turns for a long time before his mind drifts to thoughts of Charles.

He remembers the contrast of the younger man’s freckled skin against his old bed. The way a pink blush ran from the man chest, and neck and cheeks. He hums at the memory of sight and taste and smell. Having Charles pliable and willing or asleep and loose. He misses the younger man. Charles may never understand how much Erik loved him. Or worst, he thinks. Charles understood perfectly and still stomped on his heart. Killed his mother. Destroyed his world. Erik lays flat on his back, rubbing a hand up and down his sore middle.

He thinks back to the other night. Charles was in distress. Casting a shadow on Erik and looking for… comfort perhaps? He smirks at the thought. Maybe his beloved is not all lost. Erik wants to believe he’ll find a way back to the telepath’s side. On his own terms, without the meddling of some corporate washout. He vaguely remember Emma dealing with the man for goods. He wanted human slaves and his Father provided the labor. It had to be more cost effective that paying regular salaries. Erik laughs to himself. He’s dealing with modern day chattel owner.

_“No, not here.”_

Erik frowns. He sits up and looks across the room. A faded shadowy presence eases through the door. He’s about to turn on the light and reach for his knife when he recognizes the voice. It’s in his head not the room.

Charles plasters his see-through form against the door. He’s panting and writhing like he’s physically there. Erik is almost afraid to interrupt the tableau. Charles clothes seem to move on their own. His sharp tuxedo jacket slides off his shoulders. His shirt is rucked up and slowly unbuttoned by invisible hands. Charles remains pressed against the door, hands spread out near his head. _“No, please. We’ll get caught. He’ll smell you on me, damn it.”_

Erik frowns getting up to walk to the apparition. He reaches out to the space and touches the mirage, half expecting it to disappear.

Charles opens his eyes and looks straight at him. Erik feels like his heart is stopping.

_“Please, just wait. I want you. I do but you have to wait. We’ll get caught and he’ll tear you apart. With claws!”_

Erik pulls his hand away. He carefully lines his mouth with the illusion’s ear and whispers, “Charles? Are you here? Can you see me?”

Charles moves his head just enough to look at Erik. He seems more solid now. Erik can almost smell the sweat on young man’s skin. His hair is plastered to his forehead. He pants and Erik feels his breath ghosting on his neck. It all feels so real. Erik risks trying to touch.

Charles moans as his fingers skim along his neck. Charles is soft. Charles is soft and real to Erik’s touch.

The younger man looks him in the eye as he speaks again. “You. Not again.” He frowns, and Erik wraps his hands around the man’s neck, his thumb skimming the red bottom lip. Charles gasps and closes his eyes, opens his mouth and Erik lets his thumb slip just inside, feeling heat and slickness. He marvels at the sensation, afraid it will go away at any moment.

Charles opens his eyes again, but this time he looks just over Erik’s shoulder. “No, I wasn’t talking to you. It’s alright. I told you…” His eyes drift back to Erik. “We can do this another time. I think I’m too drunk right now, anyway.”

The vision suddenly collapses and Erik is left against the door, staring at nothing.

 


	5. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the warning at the end of the fic

#####  Gray City, Utopia February 1967

It takes days for the city to clean up all the tinker paper. Days of picking up trash and scrubbing up wasted drinks. Raven joked that Charles had just thrown the biggest Oxford kegger in history. He should be proud, she said. “Multiple countries all united, under one giant flagon of ale.”

He took little comfort in her joking. While meeting the politicians had been daunting, he made it through with good reviews. Lucas had looked princely and charmed the media with an imperious little wave. The Great Patriarch made a brief appearance and rode a float in the main parade to the palace. Charles had recovered in record time and that night.   He had danced with Princesses and First Ladies. He watched his family mingle with people on the world stage and felt good knowing they were all safe and happy.

Sharon had talked the ears off some of her old school friends, delighted she could one up all of them now. Lucas had tired out early every night of the celebration, claiming the crush of people was too noisy. Charles is beginning to suspect his son may have telepathic powers as well.

On the last night of the celebration, socialites and royalty gathered to the Great Hall while common people partied in the Palace courtyards and in the streets.

Then there were the businessmen. All desperate and clinging for his attention. He tried to be polite, but still foisted most of them onto poor Darwin. Logan had made himself scarce for most of the revelry, siting his aversion to all the ‘happy’ in the air. Charles was left alone at one point and pounced on by a most intriguing businessman.

Warren Worthington the third, had wings. Giant, glorious, beautiful wings. He looked like something out of biblical scripture. Blue-eyed, blond-haired. He was tall, well-built, and charming. He led Charles around the ballroom in a waltz. Angel had flittered around at some point trying to get the man’s attention but he only had eyes for Charles.

By midnight, Charles had let the man talk him into a private tour. They were groping each other in a library when Charles felt the shock of another presence. He closed his eyes to Warren and opened them to Erik. He felt Erik’s hand on his skin. He thought he could hear the other man’s heart beating erratically in his chest. He sucked a phantom thumb into his mouth and found himself trembling with anticipation.

Warren noticed his fugue state and called him back to reality.

Charles had put off their tryst and gone to bed. When Logan reappeared the man was silent and distant. His mind was protective and possessive, envious over the aborted affair. Charles was too tired to reassure him nothing happened. He went to bed, hungover and exhausted.

He and Logan put off talking about it the next morning. They’ve been avoiding each other ever since.

This morning Charles is at the Cerebro tower. Charles personally hates the design of it, thinking it would be better underground. It’s a wide tower with a golf-ball like dome jutting out of one courtyards like an ugly dimpled phallus. He’s having second thoughts about Hank’s new upgrades. His old school chum is a zealot about science. Charles has seen Hank’s memories of working under the CIA and being forced to help find a way to bring down Shaw. He kept his mutation a secret for years, but it was eventually dug up. Hank was tormented and pushed to an edge where he tried to develop a cure for himself. All he managed was unlocking a physical mutation, even more pronounced than his large feet. Now the young man takes a cure for the cure, suppressing his mutation while he fixates over Charles’s powers.

Inside the dome, large tiles that magnify his powers are suspended from the ceiling in an array. Wires and scaffolding is everywhere as the project evolves everyday with Hank’s obsession.

“Okay I changed the helmet’s input lines, cleaned up some of the design. It should be less bulky.” Hank smiles and tries to sit Charles in the chair. “Are you sure you don’t want to shave your head? It would facilitate the…”

Charles cuts his friend off, “You’re not touching my hair, Hank. We’ve already discussed this. I’m a public figure now. I get rave reviews over my hair, you know.” It scrubs a hand through this thick hair for emphasis. “I have what the ladies call a ‘glorious mane’ and intend to keep it that.” Honestly if he thinks about all the shaving he was subjected to by Annaud and Whitehall, he reasons he can’t help being protective of his hair. With Daniel dead, there’s no one to help it rapidly regrow.

Hank laughs and punches Charles on the shoulder, “You vain bastard. Perhaps, Logan just won’t let you cut it.” He tosses the joke without any malice but Charles feels the need to defend himself.

“The Wolverine has no authority in regards to my hair, Hank. Piss off.”

He stands up to walk away but Hank rushes over to block him. “Wait! I’m sorry. It was joke.” He looks at Charles with worry. “Is something wrong with you two? You’ve both been kind of…” he waves his hand in an odd gesture, “Since the ball. Angel said you were flirting with that other guy.” He looks skeptical, “I told her that’s just how you talk to people. You’re not even interested in men. You’re just unspeakably sexy.” He blushes. “That’s not how I meant to phrase that. I mean you can’t help attracting people. Even when we were kids. But the only person you’re interested in right now is Logan, right?”

Charles feels guilty over his actions from that night. Explaining his sexuality to Hank is not on the table. “Logan and I are fine. And that’s that, Hank. Now come on and fit me for the bloody helmet.” He goes back to the chair in the center of the lab. “You are not shaving my head. I will consider getting a trim. But that’s it.” He adds after sitting primly with his legs crossed, “I have a photoshoot with Gentlemen’s Quarterly in a couple of days.”

Hank sighs and measures his head, “It’s called GQ now, Professor Pop.”

“Shut up, Hank.”

Charles is saved an hour later by Vincent. The man appears more gray and wild eyed than usual. He rushes in and excitedly pulls Charles out of the chair, “Look! Its back! It’s all coming back!”

Charles smiles, knowing the man’s has had problems recovering his abilities since the Great Patriarch left him. Hank frowns at them both. He hates to have his science interrupted. _“Vince…”_ Charles nudges, _“Why don’t you get us both out of here.   We can go get some ice cream with Lucas.”_ He smiles as the other man brightens up.

Vincent puts both hands to the side of his bald head, “Henry.” He says freezing Hank in place. “You will stay here and alphabetize all of your… stuff. Then you will ah…” He can’t think of another order so Charles helps him along.

“Make him polish all the tiles on ceiling.”

Vincent laughs, “POLISH ALL THE TILES!”

Hank kicks off his shoes, grabs a rag, and climbs up to the top of the dome.

Charles and Vincent laugh as they leave.

Charles tries to make time with Vincent. He considers the man his predecessor. The Great Patriarch is still fond of the boy that housed him years ago. Having a little fun at Hank’s expense is alright, he thinks. He’ll make it up to his old friend later.

They meet up with Angel in one of the Palace courtyards. She’s playing tennis with Lucas. She flies around, energetically batting at the ball. Lucas sits crossed-legged on a stack of pillows on his side of the net. He’s drinking a milkshake and moving his racket with is mind. Charles is so proud, his face aches from smiling so hard. “Lulu!” He calls, knowing how the boy feels about the nickname.

The boy glares at his father. “That’s not funny, Daddy!”

Charles laughs, “Come on and get something with me from the kitchen. I’ll like one of those milkshakes.” He throws an arm around Vincent, “I’m sure Vincent could convince someone you need another one too.”

Lucas grins as he jumps up and runs over, ending his match. Angel waves at them as they leave, but stays behind. Charles pushes at her, _“Can you check the perimeter, again? Hank and I were looking over the Aliya’s mask this morning. It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before. But it does block my powers. And the Great Patriarch. Keep an eye out.”_

She goes about her business, not making a scene that would worry Lucas or Vincent.

Charles spends time with his son that afternoon. He’s been hyper-vigilant since the attack. The staff is subtle, but there’s more guards posted. The media has noticed the uptick in security around the Gray Palace but the official story is it was for the visiting dignitaries. Charles is loath to admit there’s a force out there that can out maneuver him. This on top of his issues with Logan is making the dull pain in his head even worst. But for a few hours today, all he had was Lucas. His son can be temperamental but the boy was happy to be the center of attention.

Before dinner time they let Vincent escape and go up to Lucas’s bedroom. The boy wants to show his father his new puppet theater playset and Charles wants to make sure everything in the room is secure.

Charles sits at one of the windows to take in the show.

Lucas goes behind his little stage and narrates his moving dolls.

“Introducing the Great Yuriko! And Aunt Raven! I mean Mystique!”

Two girl puppets enter the stage and bow. There’s no strings in a Lucas Xavier Production. Charles is absolutely delighted. One puppet is dressed like a geisha with long nails and the other is a girl in a blue dress. “The Great Yuriko will make Mystique disappear! But first, Mystique will change her appearance!” Charles watches as Raven’s puppet changes. Lucas makes the dress appear to dissolve into scales across the body of the puppet. Physically transmuting to a naked blue model of Raven.

Charles applauds with enthusiasm. “Bravo, Lulu!”

The boy peaks out from behind his stage, “Daddy! Stop calling me that!” The stage shakes with his anger before settling down. Charles nods and quiets himself. He can’t help being excited over his son’s control. The boy is only four, and already mastering his gift. Charles couldn’t push thoughts accurately until he was twelve. He only wishes Moira could see their son. He knows his wife would revel in this. He idly wonders if there’s time to grab a camera, but he rather have this private show to himself. Later, he thinks he’ll show the world how talented his son is.

The boy clears his throat and starts to continue, dramatically drumming as the Yuriko puppet drags out a box.

“Now, to make her beloved disappear…”

“ _Beloved_ ,” Charles hears the echo of Erik’s voice rang out in his head. His body goes cold as mind is barraged with memories, visions of the past that have no place here fill him with dread.

“One,” says Lucas as the blue doll enters the box.

_“Two,” Says Erik. Charles sees the hands of Edie Lehnsherr, shaking as they raise over her son’s head._

“Three!” says Lucas and the box falls apart, revealing an empty space. The Raven doll has vanished from the stage.

Charles only half sees it. His heart is beating fast in his chest and falls over on the floor.

“Daddy!”

The last thing he hears before passing out is the sound of his child crying.

Charles doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He comes to in his own bed with the curtains drawn. There’s a heavy hand on the back of his head and thick fingers comb through his hair. He doesn’t turn around to see Logan. The other man smells like soap, the bed feels damp and naked, hairy legs press along Charles’s lower body. He’s naked as well, he notes. Logan may have sat with him in the bath again. The man seems to think it’s a cure-all for Charles.

Charles doesn’t turn around. “Is Lucas alright? Did I scare him?”

The larger man pulls him closer but doesn’t force him to turn around. “He’s alright. He knows you blank out sometimes. I told him you’ll watch the play again tomorrow. But ah… well he threw away that toy anyhow. He thinks it made you sick.”

Charles wipes his eyes. “I ruined it. I ruin everything. I ruined something good for my son. I ruin us… I ruin everything!” He babbles, and he knows he’s babbling but Logan doesn’t stop him. The man sighs and pets him instead.

“Chuck,” he kisses Charles behind the ear. “It’s going to be okay. Raven and Yuriko took him out the movies. He’s stuffing himself with popcorn and candy as with speak. And well. You and me. We’re not… um.” He searches for a way to say what he wants without being sappy, and Charles smiles thinking about how good the man is. “We’re not exclusive. We never said anything. Hell, I jumped the gun thinking it. We didn’t make any promises to pick out curtains or nothin’ so I guess…”

Charles turns then to stop the man. He kisses Logan on the cheek, then the mouth, then the nose. “You are too good for me, Logan. You’re a living angel, you know that. I went snooping around someone else’s feathers because… honestly I’m just not a good person anymore.” He forces a smile to his face, “I’m sorry I hurt you, James.”

The man’s face crumples, “Don’t call me that, Chuck.” He knocks his head against Charles and tugs on the younger man’s hair. “Or I’ll starting calling you Princess Chuchu.”

Charles barks out a laugh, “Alright. I’ll leaves it alone, Logan. But understand. I don’t understand myself sometimes. It’s not you, really. Believe me when I say you are wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.” He kisses Logan on the lips. “And thank you. For being so good to me and my family for so long.” He kisses him again, “I mean it. Thank you.”

The older man would vehemently deny the tears in his eyes, so Charles wipes them away before they can offend.

Charles smiles softly and lets his hands roam the larger man’s body. Logan is broad and hairy and Charles puts it out of his mind how different this feels from a woman. From Erik. He skims his hands across the man’s arms and chest before reaching up to hold his head still for another kiss.

He thinks he’ll apologize for his unfaithfulness with his whole body tonight. One of the main delights in having Logan for a partner is the man doesn’t mind letting Charles mount him and Charles isn’t shouldering the violence and anger that made switching with Erik an impossibility. He lets his hands glide down to squeeze Logan’s muscular thighs, then around to paw at his ass. He smirks as he pulls away, “Tell me my itinerary is clear for the morning.”

Logan throws a leg over the younger mans’ and grins, “I’m throwing that fucking datebook out the window.”

They’re caught laughing and groping each other as the door slams open.

Charles sits up quickly and covers himself. Logan rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s sake!” The man draws back the curtain to shout, “I’m trying to get laid here!”

Angel stands in the doorway, a bloody hand covering her chest. “We have to get you out here. There’s an attack on the Pal—“

She falls over and Charles and Logan rush to get out of bed. Charles kneels over her, naked and panicking. “Angel!” The girl doesn’t respond. She lays face down on the floor, one of her wings torn from her back. She’s quickly bleeding out on the floor.

Logan runs outside the room, “Medic! Angel’s down! Where the fuck is everyone!”

Charles watches as the light fades from the girl’s eyes. He closes her eyelids and gets up quickly to put on a robe. He goes to Logan’s side, “I had to touch her to see anything. I just saw her last memories. The wall is being attacked. Lila’s guards are all centered on one powerful group of mutants but someone was trying to get up to my rooms. They shot Angel down after she fired on them.”

Logan doesn’t bother getting dressed, he runs off to the wall to join the fight.

Charles tries to evaluate everything. The silence in the palace is eerie. “ _Hank_ ,” he projects. “ _What’s going on? Darwin? Anyone?”_

He finds his range is limited and that is baffling. Hank comes running up the hall as a blur of blue fur and muscle. “Charles, you’re okay!”

Charles looks at his friend. “I was with Logan.” He motions to his room, “Angel’s dead. What the hell is going on?”

Hank pulls him out of the room and leads him away. They’re headed for the shelter below the palace. “I don’t know, Charles. I tried projecting to you earlier. Can’t you see anything?”

Charles shakes his head, “No. It’s like something is dampening the whole palace.”

“Shit,” says Hank. He stops. “We need to go back up to Cerebro. Whoever’s attacking us is using it to block you!”

Charles doesn’t ask how Hank knows, he feels guilt radiating from the other man. He and Hank will have to have long discussion when this is over. They hear gunshots on the way to the tower. A couple of guards run with them to the tower. Charles takes a gun from one of them. Hank roars before leaping forward into the fray.

Charles and the guards exchange fire with whoever’s inside Cerebro. Hank evades all the bullets, manages to climb up the tower. He punches a hole in the top of the dome and climbs inside. Charles tells the guards to lay cover fire and distract the assailants. It works, and whoever is inside never see Hank as he crashes down in the lab.

Hank comes out of the tower with three men, two on his shoulders and dragging one by the hair. He dumps them on the grass outside the tower and runs back inside. Charles and the guards follow him up to Cerebro. There, Hank is running around madly adjusting his equipment. He shuts everything down and suddenly the world is a great deal more noisy to Charles.

Voices from all over the Gray Palace rang out in panic. Darwin and Alex are arresting men and women at the front gates. Camera crews have arrived. Soldiers are crowding in to back up Lila. Lila has been injured. Sharon is sleeping through all of this. The city is clamoring for news about the attacks. Several areas around the city have been hit as well. Charles seeks out Raven and Yuriko.

_“Charles!”_

Raven’s thoughts reek of despair and desperation. Charles frowns, falling to his knees with her pain in his head. “ _Raven? Are you alright?”_

_Raven falls over on the ground, and he sees through her eyes. She’s clutching a bloody yellow sweater. Yuriko is lashing out at group of men inside the theater.   They’re all dressed like Aliya was nights ago. Charles concentrates on using magnetism. He remembers how Gunther Bain died, and applies that lesson on Yuriko’s attackers. The men fall to the floor and Yuriko rushes back over to Raven._

_His sister pulls the sweater up her face, rocking back and forth on the floor._

_She looks down for a moment. And Charles sees Lucas on the ground. His son stares up with unseeing eyes, a gash of red across his neck._

 

The people will later call the earthquake that shook apart Gray City, the Mourning.

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter has death of a child, and may be triggery   
> Its not described in detail, but its there.


	6. Stages

#####  Gray City, Utopia April 1967

 

“Bravo! Bravo! Encore!”

Charles stands up and whistles loudly from his box seat. The giant theater is packed tonight. Beside him Moira claps and mimics him, whistling and whooping. “Encore!”   She shouts, before grinning from ear to ear. She stops only to pull Charles close and kiss him on the neck. “That was wonderful! I’m so proud!”

Charles hugs her close as the patrons in the theater keep up the racket, trying to lure the artist back out.

Charles looks down at the other couple in their box. “Wasn’t it fantastic?”

Brian nods his head while fiddling with a film camera, “Encore!” He shouts standing up as well. “I missed the last part with this darn fangled thing!”

Charles laughs at his father and pulls him close as well. “That’s alright, Dad. We can always record it later.”

Edie laughs from beside Brian, “You men and these technologies.   You miss the whole world passing you by trying to film it. Just look up, Brian. Enjoy life as it happens.”

Moira nods, “I know what you mean, Mama. The Professor here would rather waste an entire day trying to use a new Kodak than actually play in a park.” She pinches Charles on the arm. He remembers the day he set up a tripod and tried his utmost to get the perfect picture of Lucas and Raven playing in the grass. It didn’t work out.

Charles smiles at his family, happy to share this day with all of them. The audience riles up even more as the curtains draw back. The artist walks out onto the stage. He bows in their direction and blows a kiss to his mother and father. “Thank you everyone!” His life-sized puppets walk out to the stage. They bow and catch bouquets before joining their creator.   Lucas smiles as he waves up at his father. “Daddy look! Isn’t this funny!”

Charles laughs along, caught up in the merriment. Two of the puppets look like the German Mad Hatter and Little Mouse. They start fighting on the stage while the Raven Doll tries to break them up. Charles is wiping tears of joy from his eyes as the theater gets darker. He thinks for a moment that Lucas is going to put on another show. He sits back down and looks to Moira. She’s not in her seat, she’s just disappeared. He turns to his father and Edie and finds them gone as well. The curtain to their box is pulled back and lets in a cold draft.

“Dad?” He asks, thinking his family stepped out without his noticing.

“Hardly, sugar.” Emma enters wearing an ornate crystal gown. She sits in Brian’s chair holding a pair of opera glasses. “I think you know the truth of this little dream, Charles.”

Charles sits back and stares out at the rest of the theater. The patrons have vanished and the stage is empty. He sobs, “Why can’t you leave me be, Emma. Why do you keep barging in where you are not wanted?!”

The woman holds out the little glasses, “Because you have to see Charles. You’ve been down here with the dead for a long time. Things are getting out of hand. I told you that hole in your head was getting bigger.” She waves at the empty seats and he sees shadows moving amongst the aisles. “What do you think is keeping you company while you let that parasite ride your body?”

Charles shakes his head, feeling pain erupt at his temples. He covers his ears and sinks back into his seat. “Go away, Emma. Leave me in peace. Please!” He shuts his eyes. The sound outside his hands is muffled but he can still hear Emma clearly.

She sighs, “If you won’t listen to me, then at least listen to your friends. Let them pull you out of this before you can’t go back, Charles.”

He opens his eyes to see Angel standing in the box. She’s dressed like a fairy, he thinks. Wearing a light pink shift dress, her wings flitter and sparkle. “Sir. I’m so sorry for everything I did. I mean that.”

Charles waves a hand at her, “You apologized more than once and I believed you before, Angel. Go away.”

She moves closer to him, and he sees her eyes are gray and bloody. “Charles, please!” She shouts drawing his full attention. “I’m scared, alright! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I should be with my family!” She cries and lashes out at Charles, pushing him into the seat. “Wake up and let me go!”

She pushes him again, and the chair falls over. He tumbles on the floor confused. When he gets up, he’s standing in the shadow of the Great Patriarch. Tessa and Vincent hold hands beneath the towering being. Charles watches as Tessa shouts up at their savior. He can’t hear her words but Vincent cowers beside her.

Tessa notices Charles and cries out to him, but he can barely hear. He steps slowly towards them but feels the weight of the Great Patriarch’s attention. He looks up and tries to make out his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run so far away.” He feels warmth on the back of his neck, imagines the first of their kind is trying to reassure him with an embrace. He smiles at that and continues. “Thank you for watching after my friends. I’m ready to go home now.”

Charles closes his eyes to blinding light.

He wakes up in the darkness of his own bed. His body feels sore, but he gets up anyway. He’s wearing a thin pair of pajama bottoms. He gets up and heads for the bathroom, intent on taking a shower. He sees his reflection in the mirror, expecting the usual markings of the Great Patriarch.

He finds instead, his own face, cleanly shaven. Long hair brushing his shoulders. He looks older he thinks, and he presses up against the mirror, inspecting his face. “How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough to miss the funeral.”

Hank stands in the doorway. He’s wearing rubber gloves and holding a syringe. “Are you all there, Charles?”

Charles nods and the man sighs before capping the needle and putting it away. Charles swallows. His throat feels tight and hoarse, “How long… what happened?”

Hank comes inside to start the tub, “You shook up downtown. Then went catatonic. Afterwards we learned from Raven that… She said they were…” he stops and starts, sobbing. “She said they were about to get some more candy when they were attacked. She was holding Lucas by the hand, but told him to hide while she and Yuriko fought the men off. They were surrounded and she lost sight of Lucas for a second. That’s when… it happened. She tried to contact you, but it was too late.” Hank’s mind is full of guilt, “It’s all my fault this happened.”

Charles slips out of the pants. He’s trying to absorb everything slowly. He’s sure if he reached out with his powers now he’d kill everyone in the palace. Possibly the city, if he exerted himself with all the rage and sorrow that’s turning in him now. So does the right thing, he thinks. He gets into the tub and leans back, letting his mind acclimate to the facts. His son is dead. His family is down by yet another member and even with the power of a living god, he couldn’t do a damn thing to protect them. He concentrates on the sound of the water filling the tub until Hank stops it.

The younger man looks more worried as Charles stays calm. “Charles are you there?”

He nods his head, his eyes close, “Who else died that day. What did the Great Patriarch do?”

“Angel, a few of Lila’s guards. Some soldiers from the army. Police officers. The people in the buildings that fell.” He turns away and sobs, “And the Great Patriarch punished me for causing you so much heartache.” He cries, “But I deserved it. I know that now. He tore down Cerebro and called for an assembly with the world powers. He told them he didn’t need machines to find the ones responsible. He had Lucas preserved in the Great Hall. I’ve never seen anything like it, the technology he’s using. He told us that you would return when you were better. I had almost stopped believing him.”

Charles takes it all in. “And why are you in my room, now with that needle? I don’t like needles, Hank.”

The younger man stands up, “It was to sedate you. He leaves sometimes but you don’t come back. Not really. You were wild and so upset. If he weren’t possessing you we had to keep you under. Just a little.” He hangs his head, “I’m so sorry, Charles.”

Charles sighs. “My head feels like it’s about to explode, Henry. It may be best if you weren’t here for that.”

Hank nods and starts to walk away.

“Where’s Logan,” he calls out before the man leaves.

Hank shrugs, “He took off after the funeral. He doesn’t really like the new council members.”

Charles sits up, “What new Council members.”

Hank shrugs again looking confused. Charles risks looking at his mind. He sees the man’s thoughts about the new Council members has been altered. He sees the reality of it in a fog. “Darwin and Alex left so he had to replace them. Warren Worthington the Third moved here, and denounced his father’s company. The Great Patriarch was moved by his entreaty and gave him a new position.” He says by rote, “And N’Dare is worthy, insightful, and a powerful influence.”

_Charles sees what really happened. The Great Patriarch sent Darwin and Alex away in a rage. They replaced to save face in front of the cameras._

Charles wipes Hank’s mind of the last several minutes, smiling tightly as he dismisses his friend. “Leave me alone Hank. We’ll talk later.”

Charles stays in the tub. He has to work to do, he thinks. If he works, he can’t stop long enough to think about Lucas. He can’t think about the last thing Moira gave him in this world. About his son’s blossoming personality. About the boy’s talent and curiosity. He can’t think about seeing his own eyes look dead and cloudy, framed in a small face splashed in blood.

He cries out, and tries to focus. A part of him knows he’s undone much of his work falling apart and taking his grief out on the city. The Great Patriarch was only looking after things, he reasons. He had to clean up the whole mess while Charles physically and mentally checked out. Placing N’Dare on the council is a good thing, but he can’t imagine why the Great Patriarch would hide this from him. Or why he gave Warren any position at all. He’s afraid to go back to the Astral Plane now. Not with ghosts like Emma waiting to lay into his mind. Instead he tries to focus on reconnaissance. He gets out of the tub and wraps up in a towel before going back to the bed. He lays down and lets his mind passively scan the others in the palace.

_Sharon is dry. She hasn’t touched a bottle since before the funeral. The day her grandchild died she was hungover and sleeping deeply in her room. She sits now dressed in a plain black dress, handwriting checks to various shelters in the city. Writing letters of apology to people who lost loved ones that day._

_Raven and Yuriko are fighting in her room. Yuriko claws at Raven, but the blue woman evades her, taking down her lover with a sweep of her legs. They wrestle on the floor before Raven pins her. She sobs, and rests her head on the other woman’s shoulder. Yuriko cries as well, withdrawing her claws and petting Raven on the head._

_Further out at the walls, Charles sees Lila and Vincent fielding questions from a reporter. The reporter has a mind to tell the world that the Gray Palace is falling apart. Vincent uses his influence to make the woman change her story. She’ll go back to her newspaper and write about how strong the Great Patriarch is in the face of tragedy._

_Tessa is in the Great hall, standing over a glass casket. She feels Charles and turns away, “You’re awake. But this isn’t how you need see him, Charles. I’ll wait in here until you’re ready to come down in person.”_

_He flees her mind and looks for Logan but the man must be outside his range._

_He listens to the noise of the people. The general public is split with so many opinions. Some people are sadden to see the son of the Host lost in such a violent manner. Some believe another world power is responsible for trying to assassinate the Living God and want Utopia to declare war. Some believe the Great Patriarch is a false prophet, lying to amass power in the first place. They think it’s a good thing the Gray Palace is falling apart and hope the city falls with him._

_Charles is worried with this sect of his society. He follows the threads of thoughts until he finds the root. There’s a group of homeless men and women in one the shelters at the edge of town. They’re passing out flyers that tell people to renounce the false god. There’s an invitation to hear the ‘Truth’ from a man called Max Xorn. ‘Go to the Morlocks’ it says._

_Charles follows the thoughts of these people. He knows from Darwin’s patrols that the Morlocks are mutants with visible mutations that live underground outside of Utopia. They’ve branched out in various countries, often living in abandoned metro tunnels. He follows the thoughts of the network. A messenger leads him to a flunky, which leads him to the leader of the Morlocks. A woman with one eye and plenty of battle scars is knocking on a shoddy wood door. “Max!” She calls out. “Finish up with your whore and get going! You’ll miss evening prayer again!”_

_Inside the room is two familiar minds. He takes over the easy one, an impressionable young girl from Israel._

_He opens her eyes to see Erik beneath him. The man’s eyes are shut tight. He mechanically pistons his hips, thrusting inside the young woman riding him. Charles is overwhelmed with being back with Erik. It not real, he reminds himself. He’s not here at all. This is Magda’s body, the woman consents to this. She’s almost twenty-one years old and is of sound mind. Mostly, he thinks, she is just blinded by adoration for her ‘Max’. Charles tries not focus on the strangeness of being in a body that welcomes the stretch of Erik’s cock. A body that’s wet and writhing. The girl’s arms are thrown around Erik’s neck._

_But it feels different… he gasps and the body he possesses lets out moan. It’s not his voice, and Erik doesn’t seem to like hearing it. He reaches up to cover the girl’s mouth. His other hand holds onto the girl hips. His eyes stay closed and he frowns as chases his own orgasm._

_Charles is barely aware of what he’s doing before it’s already done. He’s pushed the girl’s mind down into a sleeping state and fully inhabits her body. It’s a million times more sensitive to being full and stretched with Erik’s cock. The man even idly reaches down to rub her clitoris, like the charming lover he is. Charles falls over with the feeling, “Erik.” He doesn’t mean to say anything, he thinks. But the man finally opens his eyes. He stares up with a frown and looks hard into the girl’s eyes. He touches her again and Charles clutches his neck._

_Erik visibly brightens. He smiles at the girl, “Say it again.”_

_Charles tries not say anything but Erik flips them over. He squeezes the girl’s neck and fucks into her body harder while looking into her eyes. Charles lets the girl’s legs fall open wider, raises her legs up to urge Erik with the heels of little feet._

_Erik grins down at them, “Say it again. Say my name. I want to hear it.”_

_Charles stares up through his stolen eyes, mouth falling open and panting for air. “Erik.” He whispers in voice. “Erik, please.”_

_Erik squeezes the girl’s neck once before pulling her closer, kissing her hard on the mouth. He pulls away to thrust with more urgency. “Say it again. Say it again,” he grips her by thighs holding her open as he stares down at her._

_Charles leans up to lick his way into Erik’s mouth, he lets out another moan as he’s washed over the foreign sensations of woman’s body. Erik kisses him back before pinning him down and holding the girl’s neck. He asks again for the girl to say his name, and Charles does so. “Yes, Erik.”_

_Erik comes with that, speeding up his thrusts before seizing up. He’s slow to pull out. He moves up the girl’s body to hold her head still while he kisses her._

_Charles feels terrible for taking this moment from the young woman. For all he knows, she could have changed her mind. This could be something she didn’t want after all. He’s as bad as Erik he thinks. Raping this girl’s mind is worse than anything Erik could do to her. Tears well up in the girl’s eyes and Erik wipes them away._

_He smiles down again, “It’s you. Say it’s you, little Mouse. Say it.”_

_Charles frowns. Wondering how the man can tell. Was the sex that different, he wonders? He doesn’t want give up any ground to the man, but he projects his own body over the girls, and looks up at Erik with an illusion of his own eyes._

_Erik laughs, his body shaking as he traces the shape of Charles’s face. “Charles.”_

_Charles can feel the body he inhabits straining with tension. The girl didn’t come yet. He wiggles in Erik’s grasp and the man takes the hint, moving down to rub her body without looking. He stays focused on the illusion of Charles. Charles gasps, “I didn’t mean to continue.”_

_“Yes you did,” he bites at Charles’s neck. He rubs harder and Charles feels an orgasm from the girl’s body. He lets his head fall to the mattress. Erik moves to hover over him still grinning like he won something. Or got away with murder. Charles is disgusted with the man. He’s disgusted with himself but can’t seem to leave yet. He stays there, pretending essentially to be in Erik’s arms._

_Another knock on the door disrupts them and Erik shouts at the woman called Callisto. He tells her to make his excuses, he’ll be around later. That spurs Charles’s back to his question. “How did you know it was me?”_

_Erik smirks, “Magda only knows me as Max. She would never call me Erik, my little Mouse. Not like that.” He licks at Charles’s mouth but the younger man pushes him away to sit up._

_“You are Max Xorn? The preacher of the Morlocks? What the hell are you doing?”_

_Erik and his infuriating smile is starting to get on Charles’s nerve. He slowly answers with his own question. “What are you doing?” He leans over to kiss Charles again, but Charles runs away. Like a coward, he jumps out of the girl’s body, and treks back to his body in Utopia._

Charles lies in his own bed looking up at the canopy. He wipes tears from his eyes. He’s weak, he thinks. He should have died before all of this started. Then maybe his son would still be alive. And Erik would not have the satisfaction of knowing Charles felt anything for him. It’s his worst nightmare come true and his own doing.

What’s even more troubling is how near the other man is. “How in god’s name,” he wonders out loud, “Did he get all the way to Kiev!” He sits up angry. “Leading the damn Morlocks to conspire against me!” He jumps up and gets out of the bed. Charles pulls on a robe and marches to the Great Hall. He finds Tessa waiting there like she promised. She stands near the glass box holding his dead son, but Charles doesn’t even look at it.

He stomps over to the throne instead and she follows him in surprise. “Charles. Come here, we can face this together. You don’t have to grieve alone.” She looks at him with big eyes but Charles sits up straight and looks backs at her seriously.

“I’m not here to cry, Tessa.”

The woman frowns at him but reaches out with her hand. He ignores it to send for a messenger to get the rest of the council.

He announces while Tessa looks on at him with worry. “We’re going to war.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Dubcon because Magda was already having sex, but Charles stole her body and Erik didn't stop even when knew she wasn't there.
> 
> That's not out of character for Evil!Erik but Charles should know better.


	7. The Goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

Eriks (Formally Krakow) Poland, March 1948

 

Emma screams and screams like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do in her life.

Erik is unimpressed.

She is fifteen, he thinks. That’s old enough for any girl on the planet to start incubating babies. She has the distinct honor of housing the first phase of Project X and instead of treating it like the scientific and genetic breakthrough it is, she lies there, screaming. The sound is so piercing Erik has to excuse himself from the operating table.

He walks away from the lab, deciding to go upstairs to the club. He can review the results later with Whitehall. His presence is not really needed for this part. Birthing babies is hardly an engineering feat.

He almost makes it when his Father calls him back.

“Erik! It’s a boy!”

Erik stops and rolls his eyes. Of course it’s a boy, he thinks. It’s a damn clone.

The lights in the lab have been turned down when Erik reenters with his Father. His Father jokes about the ‘virgin birth’ and Erik laughs along because the man thinks she’s a virgin. Annaud is busy measuring fluid and bags of flesh and slicing things up for petri dishes. Daniel hovers over Emma, his old wrinkled hands patting her gently while she recovers. Her hair has started to come back in wispy white curls. Daniel strokes her head and Erik scoffs at them both, “Enough of that. Where is the little parasite?”

Emma’s mood in the last four months has been horrible and Erik blames the project for it. They’ve never really gotten along but her foul mood has only fed into his bad temper. They’ve been at each other’s throats all week. There was a scheduled operation prepared for the birthing, but Emma went into labor early. She blamed it on Erik for making her yell so much. Erik called her a cunt and was kicked out before they prepared her. He should have stay outside, he thinks. But Annaud dragged in back in before the screaming started. He told Erik the baby was a ‘First of Its Kind’ and the little Red Prince should be there to witness it.

Erik looks around for the so-called ‘first of its kind’. He expects to find their bold new step in evolution crying on an exam table. Annaud smiles from his microscope, “Subject C is in already in the vat, breathing perfectly fine. Perfectly at rest.”

Emma struggles to sit up. She throws a tray tools at the old man, “Celeste! I told you I named him! They’re not just lab rats for you to poke at!”

Erik is about to correct her but Whitehall beats him to it. “Calm down, my dear.” He kisses her on the head. “You’ve done your job. There’s no maternal obligation on your part. No need to name anything. The template is the primary asset. These are just test subjects.”

Erik walks over to the vat and sees the healthy one is indeed fine. It looks like a normal baby, he thinks. It’s a bit small, but it survived where the other two didn’t. He sees smaller human babies in the labor camps sometimes. Bawling monstrosities that get quieter and quieter before they die. He didn’t hear the baby cry out, he notes. Maybe all their effort went to waste. Maybe this is just a human baby. He stands closer to the vat and watches as the newborn tries to suck on its thumb. There’s nothing outwardly remarkable about this thing, he thinks. It looks a little like Charles. Big eyes, the same mouth and nose. But he imagines Charles was a fat, healthy baby. This thing is like an insect with wrinkled skin. He’s a little disgusted with it, honestly.

Whitehall is comforting Emma now, but as soon as she’s gone, he’ll cut up the other fetuses. Erik would rather disappear before he’s forced to assist the old man.

These clones are wrong, he thinks. He can’t help being loyal to the original.

He looks into the vat of blue-green water and stares at the viable subject. “Why are we calling it Celeste?” He tosses over shoulder, “It’s a boy. They should all be boys.” He’s just started learning about genetics from Annaud but this much he’s certain of.

Emma has already gone to sleep but Whitehall comes over to explain. “They start out as girls, little Red. Then at the right time we make sure they get the extra kick they need to be proper little Xaviers.” He grins. “This little bastard practically murdered the other two. He’s very strong, already. We’ll have to examine our Charles again soon. I wonder if he presented in utero as well. Perhaps we can get his mother on the table for a comparison.”

Erik shrugs. The medical part of the experiment has little interest for him.

He is interested in seeing Charles again. He didn’t understand this was the purpose of stealing the little Blue Prince away last summer. He was even more surprised that Annaud got Emma to incubate the project.

Father is busy congratulating everyone on a job well done. He tells Erik to take Emma back up to her rooms to recover. Erik is supposed to be building the girl her own suite, like his own. This means repurposing a whole floor of the Hellfire Club and he’s not in a hurry to do so. The girl is particular about her style, and it irritates Erik to have her dictate anything he does.

He’s slow to take her back up to her rooms, but they make it eventually. He floats her gurney up to the elevator and down the halls. When he transfers her to the bed, he covers her up and starts to leave.

“Is he going to kill Celeste?”

Erik sighs. He had hoped to escape without speaking to the girl.

He thinks about ignoring her and walking away, when he hears her sobbing. He rolls his eyes again. He’s only eighteen he thinks, surely they could have hired a midwife for all this? He wonders why he always draw the short straws when it comes to the experiments. He knows his Father is already down there with Annaud talking about ways to utilize and activate the little hybrid. Whitehall is probably elbow deep in baby guts. All Erik wants to do is work on the data for blocking brainwaves in his new hat. Specifically blocking Emma and Essex. He’s thinking about visiting his little mouse prince on his own, but…

He stops thinking to look at Emma. She glares at him all sweaty and tired looking on the bed. He feels the cool touch of her scanning his mind before she bites out, “Stay away from my baby, Erik.”

Erik frowns. “I haven’t the slightest interest in the little worm. It’s the others you should worry about. He sits down across from her and crosses his legs. “Stay out of my head, Emma.”

She moans as she sits up, “I mean it, Erik. You stay away from my baby. The way you’re thinking about that kid…”

“Shut up!” He snaps. Erik stands up and gets in her face, “It’s not your concern! _Charles_ is not your concern. You failed to be of any use and now you’re just a fucking incubator! Keep your mouth shut about me and Char…” He stops to fall on the floor, hands over his ears.

Cold, icy, lances of pain slice through his skull.

Emma doesn’t move again. Her voice echoes in his head, “ _Stay away from Celeste!”_

Desperate to get away, Erik uses his gift to topple her bed. She cries out from under it and Erik gets up to walk around. “I’ll let Whitehall know you need his assistance. He hears her crying from pain as he walks out the room. He thinks he’d rather find Azazel now. Whitehall or someone else will see to her later. If his Father asks, he’ll simply explain that she started it.

Erik goes up to his own room, first. There’s soft music playing on the radio and Mama is laying on the couch.

She’s a handful on days like these. Erik feels increasingly annoyed with the women in his life. First Emma and the hysterics over the birthing now Mama. He cleans up the table in front of her, knowing she doesn’t know where to put away the medicine. He checks her pulse and finds it even. He covers her up with a blanket from his room before leaving his suite. Father should take better care, he thinks. The man is excited about the project but that’s no reason to leave Mama naked in her son’s living room. It’s just rude, he thinks. They can handle their love affair upstairs without disrespecting his space.

It takes a while but he eventually finds Azazel lurking on the roof. The red demon is perched upside down, tail latched on to the spire at top of the tower. Erik tilts his head to try and make eye contact. “I need a favor, comrade. Can you take me to check on the Subject?” The red man swings down, disappears in front of Erik and reappears behind him. Erik is impatient, and in no mood for the man’s theatrics. “I want to check on something before we move ahead. Please, can you take me to him?”

The man bows deeply, “Little Red, Honorable Prince, Heir of the Seven Shining Kingdoms…”

Erik forces a laugh. Azazel thinks he’s so funny. He shoves the man’s shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. Just take me to check on the boy.”

“No,” says Azazel. “The Big Boss says no one but Whitehall or Annaud is supposed to interfere with the boy’s life. I drop you, he see you, and POOF. I’m the one in trouble. You stay put and follow their plans, okay.” He smirks and disappears.

Erik growls at the empty space.

Fine, he thinks. He doesn’t need them anyway. He’s an adult now, damn it. He can go see Charles by himself.

He climbs up to the top of the spire and concentrates. He’s careful to hold on as he leans away from the spike and reaches out with one hand. The world’s magnetosphere bends to his will. He can manipulate magnet fields enough to rip apart whole cities. His military training has taught him to tear things apart, but Annaud is always training him to utilize his powers for creation and progress. He can make things as manipulating metals easily. Annaud theorizes that if he hones his control he can move anything with a magnetic field, down to the atomic level. He may be able to tear holes in time and space, and even…

Erik closes his eyes as he sticks out one foot, then another and looks down cautiously. Levitating objects is one thing, he thinks. Practicing with his own body is another. He opens his eyes and concentrates to keep his body even and upright. Right, he thinks. Another skill to impress his Father. He thinks about where to go next but remembers there’s no better compass in the world than his powers. He points himself in the direction of the Pembroke Boarding School in England and takes off.

It takes hours for him reach it, but he manages. He had to start flying lower when the cold air chilled him to the bones. Then he had to duck and dodge obstacles as he maintained a constant speed. It was miraculous and he’s never felt anything like it.

He lands just out of sight, on top of one of the school buildings.

He’s self-satisfaction only lasts for a minute. Azazel appears behind him, applauding softly. The ass.

“Congratulations, little Red. I knew you could do it one day. You almost beat me here.”

Erik pulls his own hair, “You are such a fucking clown!”

Azazel shrugs, “Pagliacci, perhaps. The saddest clown.” He grins harder. “You asked to come here, so I told Whitehall. He says it was good idea and come himself.”

Erik grits his teeth. The men who work for his Father should start showing him respect, he thinks. Instead they undermine whatever orders he gives them. He officially joined the army last year and still they treat him like a kid. A foundling that they tolerate for sake of their boss. Even Azazel, his dear comrade.

Erik tries to calm his mind. He knows from experience that letting his anger get the best of him will only embarrass him in the long run. He climbs over to the edge of the building. “Where are they then? Which of these rooms belongs to the Subject?”

Azazel hesitates telling him anything. The demon stands there, switching his tail from side to side instead of answering.

In the end he doesn’t have to point Erik anywhere.

Below them, they see Charles running out of a building dressed in a blue and white football uniform. He’s half the size of his classmates. Of course he’s only about twelve years old. Erik sits on the roof and lets his legs dangle as he watches the match. Charles is in the field near the goalie clearly being ignored by his teammates as they run around the center, fighting for the ball. Erik grins wide as he rips the cleats out of one kid’s shoe, causing the ball to roll past him. The team scrambles to get back to it but Charles is the nearest player. He hesitantly kicks it and sends the ball flying across the field. Another teammate reaches it in time to knock the ball in their opponent’s net. Everyone stands around looking surprised before they start cheering.

Erik leans back and watches as the team decides to include Charles in the game. If they only knew, he thinks.

Azazel taps him on the shoulder before the game can start back up. “Whitehall is ready to go. Do you want a lift home, little Red or are you flying Air Erik?”

Erik dismisses him with a wave, “I’m fine. Tell them I’m not bothering anything. I just enjoy football matches.” He lies with a smile, certain the man doesn’t really care.

Azazel shrugs before disappearing. It’s harmless enough, he thinks. Unless Emma tells them something. But what’s there to tell? He kissed the boy once? He remembers him? They’re friends? It’s nothing serious to report back to Annaud or Whitehall. And why, he thinks, should they have the final say in the Project.

Erik may not be a medical researcher, but he’s learning. His skills at creating technology is far more valuable than anything the two glorified taxidermist can come up with. He’s sure his father knows that. So if he wants to watch an innocent football game between spoiled, human brats and his beloved then…

Erik frowns at the last thought. Then smiles until his face hurts. Is that what he’s feeling? Honestly this whole time?

He watches as Charles kicks the ball and runs around after his team. Erik notes the boy makes up for being small by being quick. He imagines his legs could be really strong some day with more practice. Right now he’s a little elf in knee-high socks and shorts. Erik snorts at the sight and makes himself more comfortable on the ledge. To think, it might be love he feels. For a kid about six years his junior. Father has pushed the whores from the club at him and Azazel bought him a girl last year in Japan, but losing his virginity had little spark. He always thought he should feel something more for the person he’s with.

Like Mama and Father. They love each despite everything that happened. They must to endure years of betrayal. But their love is unequal. Mama is a good woman but she’s not powerful. It’s a mystery to her son how she turned the head of such a superior mutant when she was still a young girl. Erik would argue that Father is happy with her now, but only because she is so well trained. Erik doesn’t want that for himself.

He watches as Charles surprises both the teams again, scoring a goal sneakily from the edge of the field.

The boys all stand around stunned and Erik’s sure he’s the only one saw Charles move forward. The telepath gets more cheers as the game comes to an end.

An old headmaster comes out with a whistles and tells the boys to go clean up.

Erik wonders if he can get a closer look. Now that he’s really named the feeling, he can’t help smiling to himself.

He scans the boys for metal and follows the nails in Charles’s shoes. He climbs down from the roof and sneaks across the building. He hovers outside a large window and looks inside. They were outside the gym and showers. Growing up in a ghetto and then then Hitler’s camps, Erik never went to a school like this. He doubts many people get to see this much luxury after just rolling around in the dirt. He can feel gold and silver fixtures inside the building. It makes him want to spit, but he spots Charles walking the floor shirtless. He frowns as the kids all line up to wash inside the spacious bathrooms. Two boys keep following Charles. They look near Erik’s age, and they seem to be pestering the smaller boy.

One kid flicks Charles’s hair. Another pushes him until he falls. Charles gets up and calmly tells them something. Erik imagines he told them to piss off with his soft, proper voice. He would laugh, he thinks. And the boys seem to laugh at Charles then.

Charles smirks and raises a hand to his temples. The boys start screaming and pointing at each other. Charles and the rest of their classmates stare on as the bullies swat at their own bodies before running out of the gym. They burst through the doors near beneath Erik’s hiding spot. He leaves Charles to listen to the boys. One screams, “Spiders!” The other chokes out, “Maggots!” They keep swatting and scratching at their own skin before they fall out on the ground from their panic.

Erik raises a brow, tipping his head. “Well done,” he says quietly. The old teacher from before comes out the door, dragging Charles by the ear. He’s waving around a big stick and points to the boys on the ground. He tells Charles to extend his hand.

Charles looks up at the man and sniffles before wiping his big blue eyes. He looks even smaller half-way out the uniform. He hitches for breath, making his chest cave in while he works up the nerve to take his punishment. The teacher is melting before Erik’s eyes. Charles slowly presents his slender wrist, looks up with his eyes wide and full of tears. The teacher groans before weakly slapping his hand with the stick. He says something quickly and points back at the gym. Charles runs off, escaping any real punishment.

Erik laughs from his rooftop.

He is in love, he thinks. Honestly, and truly in love with a liar. A deceitful little sprite that looks like an angel.

For some reason this makes him happy. Charles is a vibrant force and will grow up to be powerful mutant. Erik looks forward to the day this boy is finally at his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive I me, I don't play soccer. I just like the uniforms.
> 
> Look at Daniel channeling B.D. Wong.  
> And Erik, “Life finds a way and all that shit. I hate being a teenager.”


	8. Metropolitan

Kiev, Ukraine April 1967

The Morlocks are more extensive than first reported. There’s a branch on every continent, connected by networks of homeless, unemployed, uneducated and unwanted. They are like a living organism just below the ground around all the major metros. In Kiev they’ve branched out into an above ground colony. Occupying a bombed factory sector, they barter and trade to make a living. The reports are mostly peaceful, but there’s a troubling sect within the outcasts. Politics are churning below ground and there’s whispers that say a rousing preacher has the ears of some the most vulnerable members of society. Max Xorn is quickly becoming a divisive figure, reportedly donning a mask as he preaches mutant supremacy and urges his kind to denounce the false God of Utopia.

Charles balls up the latest account. He tried to keep out of Erik’s mind since the last incident and now resorts to slowly gathering intelligence the old fashion way. He tosses the paper in a bin and waits for his contact. He feels the boy before he sees him. Everyone in the subway is busy, going to work, going home. Shuttling along on their own agendas. But the boy is focused on finding the ‘the living god’ and has grown scared. He’s about to turn away when Charles drops his shielding. He lets just the boy see him and waves from his bench.

The boy runs over to him immediately. He sits down and pretends to read from a pamphlet. They agreed to keep things non-verbal before meeting.

 _“Everything alright, lad?” He asks, with genuine concern. A gentle scan of the boy’s surface th_ _oughts and he knows the boy recently ran away from his home. His name is Shiro. His parents died ten years ago and left him to his uncle. The man was paranoid and often spoke to himself. He killed himself after trying to feed Shiro poison. The boy has been living in the tunnels here for almost a year. He quickly became one of Max Xorn’s favorites. The problem is he believes in the Great Patriarch and doesn’t want Max to lose his way. He’s genuinely concerned for the man._

The boy practices to himself as if he were using a microphone. _“Testing… Can you_ _hear me? I mean really?”_

Charles smiles at him before making everyone in the station freeze. He looks over to the boy. “Really.” He says out loud. “But it’s best to keep acting natural. You don’t have to worry about being seen with me. No one is looking.” He winks and lets everyone go.

The boy stares with his mouth agape before he catches himself. He turns to Charles then turns away before projecting, _“I can lead_ _you_ _to Callisto’s. She’s hosting him her_ _e_ _in the underground. He has a room in the Brick City. There’s going to be rally before dinner tonight. He’ll give a speech and everything.”_ The boy nervously twists _,_ _“But there’s another telepath and a woman_ _who can see the future… they might know about this already. They warn Max about things before it happens. That’s how he got out of Albania.”_

 _Charles nods, raising his finge_ _rs to his temple for the show of it. “Don’t worry about me. The Great Patriarch and I can take care of ourselves.” He smiles, hoping he’s reassured the boy._

 _The boy_ _’s hopes and fears and tangled with reality and optimism. He believes the Great Patriarch can fix a broken world. But he knows the Living God let the Host_ _’s son die. Shiro watched_ _the_ _funeral from_ _a television in the food court. He’s afraid that Charles and the Great Patriarch aren_ _’t strong enough._

Charles yanks away from the boy’s mind. He stands up, “ _Let’s get going then. I’d hate to miss dinner.”_

Shiro stands up and tries to walk away nonchalantly. The commuters have mixed thoughts about his act, but mostly they think he’s up to something. Charles sees more than one person check their pockets when the boy passes them. Charles can’t help smiling as he trails behind the boy.

They get to the mouth of a tunnel. A train pulls in and the passengers ignore them as they slip past the yellow line. Shiro guides him to sliding door, there’s not much room between them and the train. They hurry through it and the boy guides Charles through a dark corridor. It opens in a surprising space, full of light and strangely enough smelling of lilac.

Charles keeps invisible as a small woman comes in from behind a curtain. “They you are,”she says. “I tried to find you earlier. The rally already started. Brother Xorn is talking about the war.”

Charles rolls his eyes. Of course Erik is talking about the war, he thinks. The man is in no position to really understand it, but he’s down here filling their heads with lies. Charles follows Shiro as he goes down a series of halls and cavernous abandoned infrastructure. They come out in one of the abandoned factories. Half of it appears to be missing, probably from an attack by Erik or Shaw in the war. There’s an open space that’s already crowded with followers.

Charles walks right up to the makeshift stage. Erik is wearing a white and red kabuki mask. He gestures wildly with his long robes flaring out, speaking in a deep voice. It’s almost comical, he thinks, the way the man looks like a cartoon villain. Charles doesn’t dare get any nearer. The girl he violated before is there, swooning over Erik’s words.

The older man continues after an applause, “And I call you all my brothers and sisters. All of our kind, everyone on the planet. I survived being a lab rat for the most unscrupulous human scum. I survived my family when they didn’t want me anymore. I survived… heartache.” He looks back the girl, and one could imagine a tender look on his face beneath the mask. He gently strokes her hair before turning back to the audience. “And I came back stronger! Every time I’ve been in hellfire! Every time I’ve been beaten down. You must all remember this, brothers and sisters! No one can break you! They can steal your powers, but they can’t take away what you are! Superior! Homo Superior!”

The crowd chants, hollering and whooping as they applaud Erik. Charles has half a mind to wipe all of their minds and psionically attack Erik. It wouldn’t be hard, but it’d be counterproductive. He’s here with an olive branch for now. Erik pulls the woman close and they stand there accepting applause. She leans up to kiss him on the neck before calling out to the people, “We have to fight the conscription!   They want us to fightthe Fake God for them!   We cannot stand idle while the governments that have stolen us, ripping the gifts from our brothers and sisters, now demand we serve them in yet another war!” She’s lying, as Charles knows she never had a mutation.

Charles scans the thoughts of the men, women, and children present. As far as they know, Max Xorn and his darling young wife met while escaping a medical research lab in Jerusalem. They ran to Greece where they first started preaching. Then Albania. They’ve been skirting around Utopia afraid of the Host’s ability. The people start chanting, “Down with the False God! Down with Xavier!”

Max Xorn raises both hands to quiet the masses. “Charles Xavier is a powerful mutant, brothers and sisters. I’ve said before. He is not the enemy. He is a victim of engineering, like myself. Like my wife and many of you in my family.” Charles gags as he listens to Erik so easily lie and manipulate the people. “The tragic death of his son sheds light on how this world really works. The so-called Living God did nothing to save that poor child. Can you imagine a God that didn’t stay Abraham’s hand? Would you follow that God?”

The people shout, “No!” They grow restless, and move as one closer and closer to the stage. Charles has had enough of this. He sees that Erik has learned how to turn a crowd like Emma and Shaw. He doesn’t even need a magazine spread or a billboard. A mask, a sad back story, and a pretty girl is enough to arm him with a new regiment of powerful mutants.

“Our day in the sun will come, brothers and sisters. We will walk in the light, unafraid, and untethered. We will show them the Real Peace!”

Aha, thinks Charles. The Real Pax movement is still alive. But where it urged people in Shawland to accept humans, Erik has perverted it. He’s twisted the former movement to serve his purpose, and many of the people here believe in Mutant Supremacy, not peaceful coexistence.

 _Charles scans the minds again, searching for individual reasons.   Erik’s right, he finds. About one_ _out_ _of ten_ _of_ _the mutants present has been experimented on. There_ _’s a handful that can no longer express their abilities._ _Many of them have one man’s name on their mind. General William Stryker._

The congregation starts to break up. The Morlock leader comes forward to urge everyone to join her at dinner and prayer. The audience breaks up and moves out of the building. Charles pushes slightly at Erik. He tells the man not to go with the others. He suggests he go clean up instead.

Max excuses himself from dinner before retreating back to his room. Charles follows him and shuts the door. The man pays him no attention so Charles stays in the room. He watches as Erik carefully removes the mask before shucking out of the rest of his costume. Erik is rail thin. Charles notes the scar on his gut looks better. He looks better all around. Erik has like any religious figurehead, been feeding off the kindness and goodwill of his followers.

The man is about to take off his pants and bathe with a bowl of water when Charles drops his veil. Erik looks to him slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. “Charles.” He says simply. The man seems unsurprised by the sight. It makes Charles angry, after all he’s done to still be stared at like he’s harmless. Like he didn’t kill this man before. Like he couldn’t end his life now.

Charles grits his teeth, “You were expecting me, Erik?”

The man grins at him and walks over slowly. Charles is not the person he was over a year ago. But he instinctively backs away. Erik walks him into the door and pins Charles in, a hand on either side of the younger man’s head. “Here again? No. I was on my way home to you actually.” He pauses to leer at Charles, “This is a welcome surprised.”

Charles feels his face heat up as he recalls the last time. “You are not welcomed in Utopia, Erik. Stay out or we…”

“We?” Erik licks his lips before leaning in close. “The Living God is with us now? Was he there _then_?” The madman’s mind lights up with the memory of fucking his wife after he realized Charles possessed her. Charles squirms but Erik only backs away to raise a hand to his own mouth, “Were the two you there for the whole experience?” He licks two of his fingers before sighing, “Did you both enjoy it? The novelty of having me taste you that way…”

Charles gasps before getting his nerves back. He pushes the other man away and walks further into the room. “You’re still disgusting Erik. And delusional! I can’t believe you married that poor girl…”

Erik laughs, “Is that it? You’re jealous so you ran all the way to Kiev to check on me yourself?” He stalks closer but Charles raises a hand. He keeps his distance as he continues, “A marriage of convenience, Charles. Nothing properly documented, just a way out of Israel with a warm body. You know I only care about you.” His attempt to assure Charles that he’s still loyal makes the younger man sick to his stomach.

Charles’s hand flies out and slaps Erik. The man is still insane, he thinks. “The world was better off with you bleeding out in the streets. I told you I would let you go long enough to see me take everything you cared about. It’s done now, Erik. I’ve no reason to keep letting you live.” He huffs as he stalks toward Erik. The metal washtub shakes and the exposed pipes overhead creak and moan. Charles shoves Erik, “You are lying to these people. I only want to know what’s put you up to this.”

Erik looks up at the pipes with a sad look upon his face. His eyes well up and single tear falls down his cheek. “You took it? You kept it? How…” He looks down at then Charles with menace written across his face. The mix of emotions is hard to pull off but Charles feels simultaneously guilty and afraid. Erik scowls at him, “Give it back.”

Charles scoffs, “You’re in no position to make demands.” He stands up straighter, remembering who holds all the power now. “Now we can do this the easy way, or I can just rip it out of your head.” He watches as Erik tenses up with fear. It almost makes him smile to see the man finally afraid. He continues, “Why are you leading these people against the Great Patriarch. Wasn’t it the sum of all your dreams, to be like a God someday? You’ve changed your tune since you fell from grace.”

He smirks at the last part and Erik narrows his eyes, “I wanted us to rule together. To use the god’s power together. Not for you to become his puppet. I’ve seen the broadcasts in the last months. It’s always Him at steering wheel, Charles. He makes you… ugly and cruel. He’s using you and you don’t even see it. It makes you any easy mark. Your family is an easy mark.”

Charles eyes widen, “Did you have something to do with my son’s death?” He shoves the man and Erik falls to ground. Charles stands over him, full of rage and despair. “TELL ME!”

Erik stays on the floor and keeps his eyes on the metal in the room. “I’m in no position to lie am I? Take what you want, Charles. Look and see for yourself. The both of you.”

Charles sneers, “You think I’m bluffing? Do you really think I won’t kill you Erik?!”

Erik raises his hands and stares at them with the same sad look. “You promised me suffering, Charles. I’ve suffered. I’ve felt powerless. I’ve been hungry. I’ve let men fuck me for food and clothes. I’ve walk with bloody feet amongst people who would happily kill me. If you wanted me dead, you could have done so at any time. But you want me suffering instead. My poor, angry mouse.” He sits up on his elbows to look Charles in the eye. “I don’t know why you insist on punishing me when all I ever did was love you.”

Charles snaps and leaps onto the man, hitting Erik in the face as growls and screams. He stops when he hears a quiet knock on the door. Erik is an unmoving mess on the floor. His face is bloody. Dark red bruising blossoms around his eyes and nose and mouth. The knock starts up again and Charles seeks out the mind. He finds Shiro on the other side, concerned that they have killed each in the last few moments.

_“Go away, Shiro. And keep anyone else away. Tell the others he’s meditating.”_

The boy panics on the other side of the door, _“Did you kill him?_ ”

“ _No…_ ” Charles is careful not say anything else. The truth on the tip of his tongue. Not yet, he thinks. But he will.

Charles gets up and leaves Erik unconscious on the floor. He sits on the shoddy mattress and closes his eyes. “Please, help me. I don’t know what to do.”

The voice of the Great Patriarch is loud in his head. Charles receives an impression of disappointment and anger. He keeps his eyes closed and starts to retreat into the Astral Plane, but pulls back. He’s avoided it since he woke up and started organizing a campaign against the Allied Forces. He’s afraid to go back to there with his mind being haunted literally by the ghosts of his past.

Erik’s words echo in his memory, _“Can you imagine a God that didn’t stay Abraham’s hand._ _”_

Charles looks at the man on floor before making up his mind. He gets up and takes the tub of water, then upends the thing over Erik’s head. The man sits up, sputtering and choking. Charles kneels down beside him to look him in the eye. “I’m being attacked, Erik. On all fronts. Everyone wants to see me fail.” He blinks until a tear falls from his eyes. “I need you, Erik. Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this. Tell me who set you up here? Help me, Erik.” He’s practically in the other man’s lap, speaking while he roots around in Erik’s memories.

The other man shakes his head before he starts laughing, “Take it, Charles. Just take it and stop acting like you have to torture me for it. Or seduce me. Just take it.” He sits up and puts his hands on Charles waist. The physical reaction is instantaneous for them both.

Charles pulls away but Erik rocks up and he feels the man growing hard beneath him. “Alright,” he says settling on Erik’s lap. “Alright. I can look.” He says while grinding down. Erik looks jubilant to have him again. Charles closes his eyes and lets his body rock. They’re both still clothed, but he’s certain he’s never felt this before. He shuts out the anger and disapproval from the Great Patriarch. The noise from the rabble of poor mutants in the vicinity. The sound of his heart beating rapidly as he gives in and lets his body feel the way used to. What he feels in Erik’s mind is lust, red angry hatred, a whirlpool of conflicting desires.

With his eyes close he hears a loud ringing sound, white noise then crackles in his ears. When Charles opens his eyes he’s in the red bed. On his back, his cock out and Erik moving above him. The other man bites down on his neck, takes out his own cock and grips them both with one hand. Charles reaches up to hold Erik still at his neck, “Yes… god yes.”

Erik bites down harder, “You’re still mine, Charles. I missed you. I missed you so much.” He moves his hand faster and Charles comes surprisingly fast. His body feels heavy as he shakes with tremors. Erik licks at his mouth, so he opens it and lets the other man kiss him.

Erik moans and brings him back to the present. He’s still in Erik’s lap and there’s come spattered between them. Erik is still hard and now trying to get Charles’s pants off. “No,” says Charles feeling weak and dazed. Charles is sent to floor as Erik tries to get him naked. The telepath looks down between them with disgust before struggling in earnest to get away. He pushes Erik away with a rough shove and backs up to the door. The other man paws after him, but Charles knocks him unconscious with a thought.

Charles sobs while at the door, “What am I doing?” He looks around the broken little room. He cries, “Why am I here at all… What am I doing?” He slides down the door and covers his face with his hands. The ever constant pain in his skull has grown worst. He clutches his head and cries at his own weakness. “Please just help me.”

 


	9. Terror and Greatness

 

The Astral Plane, 1966

_“Incredible…”_

Seeing Hank again was a shock. But the other man was quick about following along with Charles and Daniel’s plans. Lila had held onto Lucas while Daniel disappeared with Azazel. Charles was uneasy once he actually saw the machine. The parts were exposed, strange piping everywhere, and circuitry with tools sticking out of them. Still, Hank went to Pembroke with him. They went to Oxford together. They were friends long after they bonded as wunderkinds. So having him nearby with something so big was a comfort. Charles had watched Lucas stare around in awe of all the technology. He told his son to be brave, that they were all going to be okay.

Daniel had returned wearing a lab coat and goggles. He gave them a manic thumbs up and ran over to Hank, whispering something in his ear. Hank had frowned but nodded, “Charles we’re almost ready.” He led Charles to a dais with a sturdy chair in the center. “This is going so fast… Okay here goes.”

Charles had been fitted with a strange helmet hooked up to all the panels and machinery. Charles had to sit down and hold the thing with both hands, it was so heavy. Hank didn’t give them a countdown. It started unexpectedly and Daniel’s real surprise from downstairs was the first thing Charles noticed.

_“Dad?”_

_Charles waves his hand around in the gray mist, desperate to clear it up. “Is that you?” He asks a familiar shape. His father comes closer and closer and smiles at him. Charles is elated to see[ Brian Xavier](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/123337128586/charles-is-elated-to-see-brian-xavier-no-matter), no matter what form he’s in now. He tries to touch his father, but the shape dissolves in the mist._

_“I’ll be home soon, Charles.” His father’s voice echoes. “We’ll fix everything together. Just like old times.”_

_Charles cries, “Dad… Is it really you? What’s happening?”_

_Another shadow falls over Charles, and this one grows larger and larger. “You will make a fine Host, for the time being. Not just a consort, but a true equal. You are marvelous, Charles Xavier.”_

_Charles frowns and tries to stare up at the shadow. “You are not my Dad,” he accuses. “Who are you and what do you want?”_

_The presence in the mist is silent but the Astral Plane changes. They are in a desert, surrounded by sand and bodies. Charles covers his face as the familiar smell of decaying bodies left out in the sun makes him gag. He remember sights like this from touring in North Africa. It was never pleasant then and the memory of it now makes his stomach turn. But it’s not his memory. He looks in the distance and sees pyramids. Not the famous ones in Giza, but smaller cousins up the Nile. The dead are dressed like soldiers depicted in hieroglyphs. This is certainly not one of Charles’s memories._

_“This is my birthplace. Where I became first of our kind. The template for our whole species. I fathered many sons and daughters over the last five thousand years. I do not tolerate weakness, child. Are you as weak as my last host? Have you the strength to really bring me into the world?”_

_Charles doesn’t know how to answer. He remembers vaguely the outside world. There, Daniel is waiting with some kind of concoction he stole from Essex’s lab. If bringing this creature into reality threatens his life or that of his family, Daniel will put them both down. Charles weighs everything he wants with the things he’s afraid of losing._

_“If I agree to this… to being yours, in whatever capacity you want. Will you promise me to protect my family?”_

_The shadow reappears over the desert and the landscape is cleared of the dead bodies. Its replaced by a tribe of people, their tents all lit up with firelight. People dance and sing and talk. It’s a homey looking tableau._

_The presence from the mist reappears behind Charles. Charles turns to see his father standing with his arms open. “I am En Saber Nur. The First One. The Father of All. And I promise you, my child.” He smiles and walks up to Charles, enveloping the smaller man in his arms. “I will protect you. I will protect our family for the good of the whole world.”_

_Charles breaks down and starts crying. He throws his arms around the man’s neck, “Please help me. Please. I want to be strong. I have to stop them all… They’ve taken everything. He killed my wife. He took my son. Please. Please help me.” He sobs in the man’s ear._

_En Saber Nur holds him tighter, “Then accept me, Charles. It can be painful, but I need you to accept me. Let me in close to you, child.” He pulls away to look Charles in the eyes. Brian had brown eyes, but this doppelganger has red eyes. Charles is curious and raises his hand to trace the man’s face and the creature smiles at him for it. “You are not afraid. I know that, my brave little soldier. A real warrior makes the best of any circumstance. You fight on in any way you can. I admire that, Charles. I can help you win. Do you want that?” He asks with a gentle smile._

_Charles is so used to having everything stolen from him. So used to having no choice. Used to placating and acting to get what he wants. This is refreshing, he thinks. This is incredible, feeling the love he remembered for the short time he had a father enveloping his mind. He cherishes the feeling and buries his face in the man’s neck. With a small nod, he gives his consent._

Together they seek out the minds of all the mutants under Shaw’s rule. The force of bringing the great being out of Astral Plane is amplified by Cerebro. The building is being ripped to shreds and all the metal is melting or rattling as Charles loses control of the stolen gift.

_“Gently, child.”_

_“No.”_

Charles sees the building is falling apart and is happy to cause its demise. He sends for Azazel and lets him evacuate the building, first taking Hank, Daniel, Lila, and Lucas. Hank tries to refuse, claiming the machine needs to be monitored. Charles knocks him unconscious and the devil taps his friend and transport him to Westchester.

Charles searches the world for his sister and finds in her in the arms of another woman in Japan. Erik’s reported traitor has fallen hard for his little sister and they are both surprised to find the demonic teleporter in their room. Charles gently puts them to sleep as well, and sends them home. Now that everyone he cares about… ah but there is Logan. The bursts into the room chasing the smell of sulfur. He looks surprised to see the girls gone and more surprised when Azazel appears above him and takes him back to Sharon’s mansion as well.

Charles smiles as the being inside him helps to protect his family.

_“Now,” he thinks. “They all need to die.”_

_“Agreed.”_

Together they find the mind of former President Shaw. He’s surrounded by supporters in Transylvania. Their thoughts are centered on murdering Erik’s beloved, then holding a public execution and for Shaw’s heir. Charles and En Sabur Nur shake the castle housing the conspirators. Shaw falls to ground, absorbing the impact and gaining power. Until Charles holds him place, freezes his ability then turns it inwards. The man’s insides explode. The organs in his gut shake apart, his bones crack. He thrashes on the floor, holding his head as his brain shakes apart in his skull.

He’s so elated that for a moment he feels the mind of every sentient, living soul on the planet. The moment is too much, and Charles cries out in pain. But The First One helps him reign in his powers and concentrate. He focuses on those minds that are close to Shaw and Erik and shuts them all down, instantaneously. He falters around the mind of Victor Creed and the Great Being stops him from trying.

_“He is an immortal, child. It will be difficult to negate the power inherit within him.”_

Charles frowns, _“Help me, then. Help me erase him completely. He needs to be punished for what he did to my sister.”_

Charles feels a nudge in his own mind, an idea of how to permanently erase the man’s mind. They do so quickly and Creed is left a confused heap, still locked up in a cell beneath Fort Ironclad.

Charles is thankful to see his revenge finally carried out. The minds of all his enemies have either been wiped or destroyed. Erik is… not where he was left. En Sabar Nur tries to nudge him elsewhere. “I can deal with this pain for you, my child. You don’t have to carry another burden.”

Charles pushes on, seeking out Erik’s mind. He explains, _“This is important. I want him to die. I need him to die, but not until he’s been punished. I want the world to bring him low, just like he did me. I want him to suffer for his sins and then I want to put metal blade in his heart and stand by as it stops for good.”_

Charles feels amusement from the other being possessing his body. _“My son, that’s all possible. You are my family now, and we will take care of each other.”_

_Charles is sent back to the Astral Plane while the other moves around in his body. The sensation of being forced out of his own mind is painful. It leaves tears as a part of him struggles to remain with his corporal body. A gentle shove is enough to fall him back into the sand._

_He’s lays there, looking up at misty sky and waits._

_“Charles?”_

_Charles sits up, recognizing the voice. “Tessa?”_

_She stands there in a dark cloak, a hood drawn up over her head. She smiles at him before running over to him. He sits up in time to catch her and they tumble in the sand. She sits on his lap smiling, “Charles. It’s you. You saved me.”_

_Charles shakes his head. “No. I’m not really driving the bus. There’s someone you should meet…”_

_“Excuse me,” says another voice. They both look over. A short distance away a gray-skinned man with black lips, a bald head, and tattoos stumbles in the sand. “Excuse me. I just woke up I… I think I’m lost.” He stands up and looks around at all the sand. “Can you show me how to get to Detroit?”_

_Charles and Tessa erupt with laughter. Charles chokes on humor and sand as he and his old friend tries to stand up. Tessa brushes herself off addresses the newcomer. “What’s your name, friend? How did you get here?”_

_The man shrugs, “I can’t remem… wait. No! My name,” he grins at them both, “My name is Vincent!”_

_Charles walks up to Vincent and hugs the man. “Welcome, brother. Everything is going to be okay from now on.” He pulls back and looks the man in the eye. “You are not alone. Our Father…” he laughs, “The Great Patriarch walks the Earth and we are his cherished sons and daughters.” He smiles and Vincent smiles with him. He looks back at Tessa to see her frowning. “What’s wrong?”_

_The woman shakes her head, “You’ve got to get out of here Charles. You have stay away from this place. It can go bad, so quickly.” She hurries over to them. “I’ve been here for a long time. I’ve been the living dead. You can’t stay here, Charles. No matter how strong you are. You have to keep out.”_

_Charles raises an eyebrow and takes pity on her, “Don’t worry, Tessa. This isn’t the same thing. I’m going to get you both the help you need. We are going to stick together, and no force on earth will be able stop us.”_

_Vincent looks especially confused, “Stop us from what? I mean… what exactly are we doing?”_

_Charles looks between them both, feeling their doubt seep into mind. “We are,” he starts off unsure, “We are architects.” He finds his voice as he takes in their surroundings. The mist rises from the world around and they are projected in space, somewhere over the earth. “We are the builders. Like the ancient Egyptians. The Mesopotamians. The great delta civilizations across the planet. We will help a Living God create a new world. The best of all possible worlds. Peace for all mankind. Mutants and humans.” He grins as the world turns slowly beneath them, parts of it light up and they see in red the minds of mutants and in white minds of Humans. Charles reaches out and touches the world, sends the illusion spinning before laughing._

_Tessa pulls him away and breaks down the scenery. They’re all standing in what appears to be Count Nefaria’s castle. A sitting room, with a grand piano in front a balcony. Tessa wraps her arms around herself, “This is where I go when I want to feel safe. It’s the last time I felt in control. I had power and dominion. I was doing good work. I had the attention of Sebastian Shaw and never once had to do anything really evil.” She sits at the piano, “What is it you want to do, Charles?”_

_Vincent stares around the space in blank wonder. He moves to sit with her and idly presses keys, “It sounds like he wants to take over the world. Don’t you have run for President or something first?” He looks at Charles, “I didn’t ask. Are you a President or something?”_

_Charles is not at ease with their doubt and suspicion. “No. I’m no one important. I’m a soldier. Captain Charles Xavier. Allied Forces, Tactical Army. I’m a strategist. I lead people into people…” He stops himself. “And I’m a father. My son’s name is Lucas. He’s getting very tall. He smiles like his mother.” Charles smiles and wipes away an errant tear. “I just want to save my family. I don’t want to be king of world.”_

_Vincent laughs and starts playing the piano with surprising gusto. “Then that leaves me! I’ll take the job, if you’re not up to it, Charlie.” He leers at Tessa. “You can be First Lady. We can get you a tiara or something.” He smiles looking back down at the keyboard. “Or we can be like the Brits.” He looks at Charles, “You guys have room full of men in white wigs making up all the laws right? We can buy some wigs!”_

_Tessa frowns at the man but Charles thinks he’s a genius. “That’s right! We can help each other! Council the Living God, to keep this from getting out of control!” He runs over to them excitedly and kneels beside Tessa. He looks up into the woman’s eyes, ignoring the shadows that spill from her hood. “If you’re worried I’ll take this too far, then help me. Both of you can stay and help me. Please?” He asks making his eyes big, “Please keep me grounded. Whisper ‘Memento Mori’ in my ear?”_

_Tessa smiles down at him sadly, “If I ever have to do that Charles, it’s too late. Remember that, my friend.”_

_He nods, agreeing for her peace of mind. “You’ll see. You’ll both see. This is the best thing that could happen to the world. I believe it. I believe in The First One.”_

_Vincent goes still, “En Saber Nur.” He looks over to Charles, “En Saber Nur?”_

_The landscape falls away and they’re surrounding by darkness. The only light seems to come from a hole far above their heads. Vincent starts crying and Tessa takes the man in her arms. Charles shushes them both, “It’s alright.” He looks at the top of the hole. He come for us all soon. He’ll save us all. You’ll see, my friends. I believe.”_

When Charles next opens his eyes in the physical world, he laid out in his own bed. The sheets he bought with Moira are on the bed, and the pillow beneath his head still smells like his late wife. He sobs before sitting up, feeling dizzy and achy. A dull thrumming, pain pounds away at his temples. He gets up on wobbly legs to go the bathroom. The first thing he sees is his reflection. He’s shocked by the discoloration of his mouth and eyes.

He stares at himself for a long moment before his father’s voice rings out in his head. _“This is temporary, child. You’ll be your own beautiful self soon enough.”_ The other being is full of humor and fondness. Charles grins at his reflection and reveals the shark like teeth. He flinches at the sight, “ _You’ll get used to it, Charles.”_

Charles moves to the tub, suddenly craving a warm bath. _“I’m at home,” he says intelligently._

_“Yes, and so are all the others. I kept my promise, Charles. But you have to leave here soon. The last week has been hectic for the world. We need a base for our followers to come together. You mother’s lovely home would fill up far too soon.”_

Charles steps in the water, feeling the soreness in his muscles fade away. The headache persists but he assumes it’ll fade with time. “Mother would love to house our mission. Have you met Sharon?”

Charles gets a warm, tolerant feeling from the Great Being, _“Your mother is a merely human. A weak and indolent one at that. But… she has certain qualities. I can see how she’s influenced your strength, my son.”_

Charles leans back in the tub, “And the others?” He asks aloud. “My son and sister?”

The god doesn’t answer, he leaves Charles with the impression of Cheshire cat, grinning while fading in the darkness.

The bathroom door slams open and Charles is surprised to see Raven.

“Is it you?” She asks. She stands in the doorway, naked and wild-eyed.

Charles blushes and covers himself with one hand while raising his other hand to his eyes. “Raven! Go put some bloody clothes on!”

He can’t see her, but she screams out. She runs over to the tub and throws her arms around his neck. “You fucking psychopath! It’s really you! Brilliant, dorky you!” She squeezes him harder and feels how much stronger she’s grown. Charles coughs in her grasp but doesn’t push her away.

“Raven.” He says sadly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried to come home. I did my best…”

“You best was good enough, Chuck.” Charles looks at the doorway and sees Logan leaning there. The big hairy man looks at the siblings with a warm smile plastered on his scruffy face. “She would’a went barging into Shawland armed to teeth if I didn’t stop her. I’m glad you kept us all from making a big a mistake, and rescued your own sweet self this time.”

He walks over to the tub and Charles feels like his face couldn’t get any more red, “A little decorum, sir. I’m in the bath.”

Raven sits up and pinches Logan, “After all he’s been through this is probably uncomfortable, you lumber jack. Out!” She steers him away from tub and Logan smirks and walks backward out the door.

Charles folds up around the rim of tub, still hiding himself from his sister. “Thanks. I’m alright now. I’m not really a prude you know. How many times did I go skinny dipping in the pond?”

Raven stands up and he averts his eyes, “Enough times to be over seeing me in my own skin. Honestly, Charles.” She splashes him with the bath water before going to the door. “I’m glad it’s you. We were scared you might not come back. You friends are here waiting for your orders. I’ll bring Lucas and Sharon up to you when you’re ready.”

“How is he,” he asks with fresh tears welling up his eyes. “Is he alright after everything? They didn’t hurt him in the lab did they?”

Raven changes shape, appearing to wear a white dress and thigh-high boots. She smiles at softly, “He as good at coping with this as you are… he’s a fighter Charles. He’s going to be okay.”

Charles breaks down and really cries then. His sister knows enough to give him some space and leaves the bathroom.

Charles stays in the water alone for another hour or so before the door cracks open. He sits up and sees a little mop of brown hair peeking in.

“Lucas!” He sits up, “Wait just there! I’ll get a robe and come to you.” He doesn’t get to do anything. His son runs into the bathroom, like his aunt, and hugs his neck.

“Daddy! I missed you so much! I had to stay with Ms. Xavier and she is not fun!” He pouts before burying his head in Charles’s shoulder. “I miss Mommy too, but the Great Patriarch said she was in Heaven. He said you were visiting her but you would come back to me.” He sniffles, “And he told the truth. You are back!”

Charles smiles, “I missed you, too. Oh my little darling…” He rubs circles in his son’s back, marveling at how much he’s grown. “I missed you so much. With every fiber of my being, I missed you. And Mommy misses you too. But…” He pulls away to look his son in the eye. “She is very proud of you. We are both so proud of you for being such a good boy! I’m so happy to see you again, Lucas…” He sobs into his son’s hair, giving him a kiss at the top of his head. “But go into the other room. I need to put some clothes on before Ms. Xavier comes in here, too. That would be embarrassing.”

His son laughs, and the boy’s voice lights up in his ears like tinkling bells. Charles commits it to memory, to call for any ‘bad’ day he might have in the future. He son is an angel, he thinks. He watches the boy tip toe on bare feet back out the bathroom, then gently close the door.

Charles leans back in the tub scrubs a hand across his face. “I’m finally home. Thank you.” He sighs and lets another shuddering sob out. “Thank you so much.”


	10. Glass Houses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's Pov

 Kiev, Ukraine April 1967

 

The world is blank and empty one moment and the next he’s shocked back into consciousness.

_“What right did he have to refuse?”_

Erik looks around the room, certain he’s hearing a projection. He’s lived with a telepath for most of his life and can tell the difference between his own thoughts and planted ones. Most of the time, he amends. With anyone but Charles.

Think of the devil… the other man is still there, still pressed against the door. Erik sits up properly and eyes him. The younger man doesn’t seem all there. He’s mumbling to himself in an odd voice, hunched over his knees and hiding his face. Erik approaches him cautiously.

_“What right did he have to refuse?”_

Erik stops and looks around the room. He can guess at the third party. “Can you show yourself, living god? Or is throwing your voice the extent of your all-mighty powers.” He kneels down in front of the younger man. When there’s no answer, he lifts Charles’s head.

Erik falls back in shock. He’s seen the younger man’s changed appearance on television, but in person it’s more… real. He doesn’t like it at all.

_“Hypocrite.”_

“Fuck you,” he bites out. “What _right_ do you have to possess him like this?”

Charles’s head tilts, but it’s the Great Patriarch that looks Erik in the eye. _“I am The First One. You preach against me amongst the weak and feeble. You tell them I am not worthy.”_

Erik stumbles backwards, “You are not real!” He blusters even as he doubts himself. “Jean-Jac…. No,” he shakes his head remembering the truth, “Phaedar. He told me all your secrets. You are old, and perhaps powerful… but not a God. Not really!”

Erik thinks about the knife he’s hiding under the mattress, the swords in the corner, the old mallet he keeps for cracking nuts under the bed. It’s all useless to him without his powers. He stays in place shaking as the body of Charles Xavier stands up and stalks over to him. The overall effect is intimidating even with his pants still undone. Perhaps even more so. Erik pulls his own clothing back together. He has no intention of getting intimate with this creature.

“You think Phaedar has any real knowledge of The First One? He is an old experimenter, and his only interest is in his craft. He would have let this child die to start again. He is not worthy.” The living god hisses in Erik’s face. “It was my true sons and daughters that brought you to this place. The Clan works against my ascension in this realm.” The red sclera of the eyes is so off-putting Erik has to look away.

He stares at the floor as he defends his former patrons, “They didn’t bring me here. They healed me and left me to die in Jerusalem.” Truthfully, they told him to keep a low profile, and Annaud said he’d contact Erik when the time was right. After being assaulted and having his shoes stolen the first time, he gave up on waiting. He sneers at the false god, “Surely you saw that much with Charles.” He looks up to smirk, “Or didn’t he bring you along when he sought me out?”

An invisible force lashes out and pushes Erik to the floor. He crawls back to this bed and stays there, his hand under the mattress. The false god laughs at him. “He certainly did. We enjoyed your suffering together.” Erik’s mask floats up from the bundle of robes on the bed. Erik snatches it out of the air puts it back. The god smiles at him, “He had hoped you would die by the hand of rapists and murderers. As you deserve.”

Erik’s mind is barraged with his own memories. Being pissed on by strangers, fighting for a scrap of moldy bread, selling himself for a coat that winter. He pulls his own hair to shake the images loose, and the creature before him laughs. Erik ignores the stinging in his eyes. He will not cry, he thinks. His Father made sure to beat that out of him a long time ago.

The fake god tilts Charles head as he listens to Erik’s thoughts, “But you survived, Erik. You’re stronger than my Host gives you credit for. Stronger than you ever believed yourself to be.”

Erik swallows his fear, “I’ve always know I was strong. I was like a god! Connected to every atom in this world! You are just a parasite. I know all about you. We studied you for years. Phaedar says…”

A strange light sparks from Charles’s hand and Erik moves a little too late. A beam of energy sears the skin on his shoulder and he yelps indignantly in response.

The bitten off cry amuses the living god. He smiles with sharp teeth and Erik finally grips for the knife. It’s of little comfort, but he holds it with his good arm and scrambles to get to the door.

“Quiet, boy.” The Charles imposter raises his hand, “If you know all about me, then you should know the main reason my children seek me out. Without my Host body in their possession they have no access to my blood, the key to Phaedar’s regeneration.” The eerie smile gets wider, “It’s my technology they use to heal themselves. Without me, they are at a loss. But they’ve betrayed me in the last thousand years.”

Erik is so afraid he’s slow to process anything. He breathes roughly against the door, “Charles didn’t seek me out here…” He frowns, “You did. What do you want?”

“To return the favor.” The fake god walks forward, and Erik feels frozen to the spot. “If you hadn’t given this worthy vessel the chance, I wouldn’t be here.” He laughs, “If you had not pushed him to the edge of insanity, I would still be holed up in that decrepit hypnotist.”

Between one blink and the next the God’s appearance changes. It’s Charles. Sweet, beautiful Charles standing in front of him. Speaking with his own voice, “The blood of the Host can heal any mutant not long dead.”

Erik scowls, “Then why didn’t you bring back the boy?” It’s a talking point for many of his rallies. The Living God could have saved a fellow mutant, a child, the son of his Host. But he didn’t. Erik looks at the being through narrowed eyes. He doesn’t care if the child lives or dies. But he’s suspicious of anyone who causes Charles pain. Especially if he didn’t order it.

The fake Charles smiles at him, tip-toeing to speak in his ear. There’s static in the air around them as he whispers, “Haven’t I already?”

_He projects the Great Hall of the Gray Palace. Erik saw the funeral on television, all the black-wearing mourners trailing behind the Living God as they paid their respects. This is not the funeral, but after the boy was laid to rest. Erik frowns at the sight as Hank McCoy seals the in his casket. He has a computer monitoring the giant slab of marble and glass. He looks frustrated but he stands up, “Vitals are stable.” He marches off and leaves the God to look down at the boy, not just preserved but healing._

“The child is but sleeping. And His father is mourning,” says the fake god. Charles’s voice goes from prep school to menace as hovers over Erik. “The world is going to burn for this. The humans are especially going to pay. Don’t you want to see that, Magneto?” He backs away and licks his lip. “Don’t you want to be whole as the worthy prepare to take this world?”

Erik eyes the man’s lips. “What exactly do I have to do to be considered worthy?”

Charles’s hands come up to his face, fingers stroke his hair before settling near his neck. It’s an uncomfortable position for Erik. He’s always been on the other side of this threat. “I’ve already found many of my true heirs, but some of the most powerful ones still elude me. They’re blocking me with your wonderful technology aren’t they?” He smiles as his thumb strokes the prominence in Erik’s throat. “If you should hear from them again… I’d appreciate it if you told me.”

He backs up and leaves Erik looking dumbfounded against the door. “That’s all.” He breathes in fresh air, feeling sick to his stomach of all sudden. “And what do I get for doing that?”

The false god throws his hand up and waves his fingers, summoning the knife from under the bed. Erik is terrified but stays put. The god opens his left hand and cuts across in a quick slash. The blood that pools forth is dark indigo. Hardly human at all. Erik frowns at the sight and the god steps forward again, holding that out. “Drink. Heal your injuries. I assure you, this is better than the diluted fare you’ve been subjected to under your old,” he grins, “Dr. Annaud.”

Erik shakes his head, wary of the any promises from drinking blood. He lived under Mister Sinister long enough to know better. “I’ll pass. There’s a kid here with healing abilities. He owes me a favor.”

Charles’s face is suddenly alien to Erik, the strange markings and discoloration reappearing. He steps back and holds his hand to his chest. “Suit yourself, boy.”

Between one blink and the next Charles has disappeared. And thankfully taken the living god with him.

Erik’s hand is shaking and he tries to control it while turning the doorknob. He opens the door and falls out of his room, forgetting his mask and robes. He doesn’t care for the moment. Let the others see him, he thinks. He just doesn’t want to go back in that room.

 

It’s Shiro of all people who finds him.

“Sir!” The boy shouts. Being one of the few to have seen his face. The boy kneels down beside him.

Erik imagines he’s a sight. Bloody and bruised again. He motions to the door, “Go fetch my mask. And my swords. I need them.”

The child nods before hurrying inside. He gets them quickly and helps Erik to adjust the mask over his head. “Sir are you alright? I… ah. I heard voices. But Ms. Magda wasn’t in there. She’s at the dinner table with Ms. Callisto. They were just talking about you. They told the others you didn’t feel well.”

“Perhaps I need a shave,” he grins under the mask. “I don’t feel like myself with a beard anymore. I think I’m in need of some fresh air.” He stands up on shaking legs, his knees knocking together. He rather shoot himself before he admits his nerves were rattled. He distracts himself instead. “A trip to Greece sounds good this time of year. What do you think? Would you like to come with me and Magda?”

The boy eagerly nods his head, “Are you…” He stops to look around like expects to be caught. He’s one of Erik’s favorite. The boy is quiet and stealthy. His ability to set himself aflame is impressive. He has a talent for sucking cock as well. Erik prefers him to the other urchins that clamor for his attention. It’s almost like the old days, he thinks. He steels himself to present a stronger image before addressing the boy again.

Erik waves away any questions the boy has, “I want you to go into town. Remember that big house with the old man?”

The boy nods his head. Erik dragged him along to his last check-in with Worthington. The boy had asked if they were going stay and live there. Erik had laughed in his face and fucked him that night while Magda was in prayer. The boy is really loyal, he thinks. There’s not a deceptive bone in his body.

Erik pats the kid on the shoulder, “I want you to go to that house with a message for me. Tell the old man to come down here and meet with me. It’s very important.”

Erik watches as the boy nods and runs away. He stays just outside his room for a long time. It’s gotten quite dark outside when Magda returns.

“There you are,” she says smiling, “I thought you were laying down or something. Is it your stomach again?”

Erik smirks beneath the mask. He’s lied about having an upset stomach so much, it’s almost comforting to tell the truth. “My head hurts actually. I fell on some bricks on my way to the room. I think I just lost a fight with the factory.” He laughs at his own elaboration.

Her eyes land on the swords, “Why are those out?” He shrugs and she picks them up first, putting them back in their place. When she comes back he’s hunched over and groaning. She rushes him into the room, and he hesitates for a second before letting her settle him on the bed.

The woman removes his mask and tuts over him. She almost sounds like Mama, he thinks. But he tosses the thought. Comparing the girl to Mama really does to an upset stomach.

“I’m fine”, he says she tugs at his beard. “I’ve had worst. No floor can take me out, woman.”

She laughs and color rises to her cheeks. It makes her look younger and more girly. She’s been playing the heroine in their little show for the last couple months. She delights in telling people that she had dangerous mutant power. So the government shut her down and stole her name. She’s a natural liar and Erik has a soft spot for manipulative actors. One may have killed him before and left him bleeding out. His own beloved burned down his home, his country, his very existence. But he sees a brighter future himself, now.

She kneels down to help him out of his clothes. She frowns at his pants. He’s still damp from the water and she must notice the cum stains but doesn’t say anything. She never does. Instead she helps him undress. Up close she notes his shoulder with a quirk of her eyebrow. “I suppose the floor burnt you as well, Max.”

He grins broadly at her, not offering any explanation. She shakes her head at him, in a Mama-like fashion. It almost makes him feels bad.

The woman lays him down. “I’ll go fetch some warm water and we’ll get cleaned up for bed.” She rubs his knobby knee before looking for the washtub. It’s still on the floor, turned over where Charles left. She doesn’t ask anything about the room and leaves, closing the door and locking it from the outside with their shared key.

Erik lays back and thinks of the future. Most of the ceiling is damaged. The pipes in the middle of the room run the building. They used to pump cool water through the factory. A hole above his head reveals installation. Magda’s argued before that it’s probably back in asbestos and they should move the bed. Erik decline. He likes how the pink fluff peaks out at him. It reminds him of cotton candy.

Speaking of food, he thinks. He hasn’t eaten since this morning. Charles kept him from the evening meal. Probably a bowl of porridge or stew, but heartier stuff since he became Max Xorn.

He waits for his bride to return and is surprised instead to see Shiro. The boy didn’t use a key, he used a friend. Erik sits up while a group of urchins surround his bed. “Kitty, I told you to never do that.”

The girl is only eight years old and looks pleased with herself. She holds up three fingers, “I moved three people today!   Three!”

Erik puts her hand down and looks at the third person. Bohdan is quiet like Shiro. But he doesn’t suck cock or do anything interesting like walking through walls. He does have the ability to heal minor injuries and emits a soft glowing light. The people underground call him an angel but his severe appearance keeps him in hiding. The boy has red skin and thick mane of violet hair. He face is half human boy, a normal cupid bow mouth and then an extraordinary broad leonine nose. Complete with whiskers and big yellow eyes. It almost looks like a mask. Erik likes the look but the boy is afraid to go anywhere near humans. It annoys the hell out of him.

Shiro points to his shoulder, “Can you heal that and his face? He has important work to do and can’t do it all beat up.”

Kitty climbs up to the bed and pulls at his hair until he turns to look at her. She squints at him, “What happened to your eye? And your nose? And your mouth?” She pulls away her hand. It’s a little tacky with drying blood. He’d almost forgotten he had his head beat on the floor. She adds, “And your hair’s hurt too!”

Bohdan shuffles from foot to foot, or paw to paw rather. He doesn’t look Erik in the eye. “Were you fighting, Brother Xorn?”

Shiro hushes him, “It’s his business. You have one job to do.” He shoves a finger in the smaller boy’s chest. He looks at Erik with an obedient smile. “First this, and I’ll go run that errand you asked me to sir.” He’s so desperate to please, it makes Erik’s teeth ache.

He sighs heavily, “Alright you little gang, go on.” He sits back and waits for the boy’s healing hand. Bohdan hesitates, shuffling closer at an awkward pace with his hand outstretched. Kitty tires of him and pushes Erik forward. The boy’s hand collides with his head.

Erik’s is engulfed in a soft light. He skin feels like it’s under cool, running water. When the boy backs away, Erik looks down and sees his shoulder is healed. He imagines his face is clear as well. The boy has tried a handful of time to heal his gut wound, improving its appearance and his mobility. But even now, after the sixth try, Erik still feels a dull thrumming pain in middle. And a particular urge to satisfy himself. Especially after losing Charles again.

Erik smiles at the children. He tries to look open and grateful, “Thank you all. Especially you, Bohdan.” The boy flusters from the compliment. He accepts a hug from Kitty before the girl gets off the bed. “Now I need you all to do me another favor.”

They wait eagerly to hear him speak, their little mouths hanging open in anticipation.

“You,” he points to Kitty, “and Bohdan will go find Magda. She went to the well to get some water. She might already be heating it. Split up and find her. Tell her, I’ve changed my mind. But I am hungry. Tell her to go to Destiny to trade our old water bowl for some hamburgers. I want each of you to have one as well.” He smiles and the try to hurry off. Kitty stops before phasing out the door. “What about Shiro?”

Erik lays back down, “He can sit with me until she gets back.” He looks up at the boy who’s already started blushing. “Do you mind? You can run the errand tomorrow.”

The boy licks his lips before waving his friends off, “Go on, you two. Do like he asks!”

With the children gone, Shiro happily climbs on top of Erik’s lap. With the chores he gave Magda to run, the woman will be gone for almost an hour. That’s enough time, he thinks.

He’s right, of course.

Nearly an hour later Magda tries to open the locked door, but Erik’s already locked it with their dead bolt from the inside. He hears her shuffling around outside. Serves her right, he thinks. She’s so gullible sometimes it hurts. He sighs and rolls off of Shiro. The boy is in deep sleep. His body is marked from the neck down. Erik gets up to open the door.

He curtly tells his wife to give them a few minutes.

He’s already had long day, he thinks. He deserves a rest

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start posting the links to the series chapters in chronological order in Tumblr next week, if anyone interested.


	11. A Voice Within Me Keeps Repeating

Gray City, Utopia April 1967

 

Charles wakes up to the drawn curtains of his bed. He doesn’t know what day or time it is. He feels like he was sent to time out by the Great Patriarch. He was pushed down, kept somewhere dark and quiet. Even the wraiths that torment him in the Astral Plane couldn’t reach him. His body feels weak, heavy, and sluggish. There is a peek of light coming in from the left side of the bed.   He sits up to close it but something snaps at his hand.

He falls back as the muzzle of a big brown dog peaks at him. The dog barks and another head joins it.

Charles calls out, “Help… I think someone’s dog is loose. Help!” He’s not afraid, he tells himself. He’s just cautious. He’s not a dog reader, after all.

The curtains on the right are pulled back and the dogs disappear. He hears them run around the bed, their paws clacking against the wood floor. He looks up at his intruder and the invasive [dogs](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/123690229766/logan-looks-unchanged-hes-chewing-a-cigar-and). Logan looks unchanged. He’s chewing a cigar and wearing a torn leather jacket. In the light, Charles can see the dogs are both a breed he’s never seen before. His knowledge of dogs is limited, but learning first thing in the morning or rather just after waking from purgatory, is not on his to-do list. He rather find out what’s going on. He is about to ask when both of the dogs bark at him.

Logan blows a puff of smoke at them, “Heel mutts.”

They obediently sit at his feet as Charles stares wide-eyed at them all. “You’re back.”

Logan sits heavily on the bed. “Well, home is where you left your lighter, Chuck.” He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out his silver lighter. “I don’t leave treasure like this just lying around.” He snaps it open and close before shoving it in his coat’s breast pocket. “Don’t I get a welcome home kiss or something?”

Charles feels a mix of volatile emotions erupt at once. None of which make him feel like kissing the man. Instead he throws his pillow. Logan sits through the mild attack. The lighter dog barks and darker one growls.

Charles pretends not to flinch when they bare their teeth. “What are they exactly? Labradors?”

Logan lets out a whistle and both dogs jump up onto the bed. The black and brown one isn’t shy about climbing over and laying halfway across Charles’s legs. Logan pets the brown one on the head as she thumps her long tail on the pillows. “These are Doberman pinschers. That’s Night and this good girl is Day.” He pats the dog on the stomach. “Raven I found them in a lab when we were looking for you.”

The dog that is happily grinning up at Charles from his legs, barks. Charles smiles at her, “Those are mine, thank you.” He pulls away, but she just follows and plops down on his lap. “I always thought Dobermans had tall pointy ears and short tails… I mean they did in the army.”

Logan growls, “Fuck that.” He pulls out his cigar to wave it in Charles’s face. “Some asshat breeding dogs decided to cut their ears and tails to make them ‘serviceable’. People still do it even when they don’t have to, just for the fucking aesthetic.” He chomps down on his cigar again. Charles knows the smoking like Logan’s security blanket. The man seems very upset about all this. “We found these two before they were cut up. But they were already being injected with all kind of shit. We took them back to New York to get them checked out. McCoy said their DNA had been altered.”

“Mutant dogs?” Charles looks at the innocent canines. They hardly deserved that kind of abuse. He feels the name of their tormentor before Logan says anything. “Another of Trask’s labs.”

The man grunts in the affirmative.

Charles feels ready to get out of bed. He already has long list of things to do. But first, there’s the Great Patriarch to deal with. “How long was I out this time? What day is it?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s the 28th of April. You were out for over a week. N’Dare had a big kerfuffle with the Great Sugar Daddy on live TV. That’s why I chuffed back early.” He leans over and purses his lips, waiting for kiss hello. When Charles gives him nothing he snorts and pulls away. “Fine, bitch at me about it.”

The dog whines from Charles’s lap.

“Not you.”

Charles throws up his blankets and gets out of the bed from the left. He goes to the bathroom and a glance at the mirror shows about a week’s worth of stubble. He scrubs at his face before running a bath. Night and Day come in and Logan follows after.

The other man sits on the toilet lid and watches as Charles moves around. “Slow down, Chuck. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what,” he asks. “About you abandoning me and running off to god knows where. And that!” He points to where now both dogs sitting just inside the doorway. “Why are you out there playing with animals when my whole life is falling apart?!” He feels he’s on the verge breaking down. His last memory is of being with Erik. Laying under him. About to let the madman fuck him. Charles chokes on his shame and falls to his knees.

Logan stays the dogs with a gesture and joins Charles on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, but Charles feels his mind. The man has left himself open to Charles. “ _Look_ ,” he projects. “ _Look for yourself Charles_ , _okay. Take it.”_

It echoes Erik last words to him too much. He shakes his head, “No I can’t yet. Please just tell me. What was so important you had to leave me here?” He looks up with watery eyes and the other man’s face caves in.

Logan reaches out to pull him in for a hug. He gently rubs circles in his back and rocks them back and forth while the younger man cries in his shoulder. He doesn’t stop as he explains himself. “I don’t like him, Chuck. That other guy… he’s not you. He’s not what I remember about you.” His eyebrows furrow in frustration. “I can’t explain it. You are different with this thing in you, Charles.” He holds the telepath’s head up. “And it breaks my heart to see the changes he makes in you.”

Charles yanks away and scowls at the man. “What changes? Nothing has changed. I’m still weak. I’m still vulnerable. I still fail at everything! Lucas is dead…” he bows his head and Logan pulls him forward again. “I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save Moira. I lose everyone. Even my poor darling boy.”

“And then I left…”

Charles lets out whine, “Yes.”

Logan strokes his big hands through Charles’s hair. “I’m sorry, Chuck. I didn’t mean to just check out on you. I’m here now, okay? I’m not leaving again.” He promises with a watery smile. “I can’t promise you’ll never lose anyone again ‘cause that’s life, Charles. But I can promise to be there for you.”

He stays on the floor until Charles is ready to face the world.

 

An hour later he stands at Charles’s side in the Great Hall. The dogs look imposing enough, even with floppy ears and tails wagging. Logan prattles on about animal mutilation and even pulls aside a camera to rant to some reporter.

Charles sits on the throne, quieting people who all rush him with questions. A handful splintering off to address Logan about the dogs. Charles tires of the media circus. Most just want to know what happened with N’Dare. He repeatedly tells them nothing is wrong and she’ll return soon.

He learned from the rest of the others that morning that N’Dare refused The Great Patriarch’s request to bring her daughter to Utopia. They argued until the earth goddess stormed away from The Great Hall. After all the death and mayhem of the Wakening, Utopia’s population fell. But since N’dare has been present, a flood of both mutant and human immigrants from North and West Africa has started to replenish them. Charles would hate to see her followers leave with her, if she decides to return home.

A Libyan reporter moves to the front. He clutches his camera and bows before addressing Charles. “Thank you, for seeing us here in your home Host Xavier.” The young man is nervous. Charles can see him sweating beneath his collar.

“This is not my home,” he corrects. “This is the seat of power for The First One. I am happy to share this space with his sons and daughters.”

“I am not his son,” corrects the young man with a guarded smile. “I am merely human.”

Charles stands up to approach the young reporter. “There is no such thing as merely human. You are all remarkable. And you, sir, are exceptional. The Great Patriarch and I both believe that.” He gives the young man a big smile.

The young man preens under the attention. “Thank you Host. That is a most generous thing to say.” He smiles brightly at Charles.   “You won’t remember me but I met you when the Mama N’Dare led a convoy after the siege in Tunisia. I was only fourteen at the time.”

Charles laughs, “Of course I remember you Aaron Ibrahim.” He steps off the throne’s dais to hug the young man. He pulls away to kiss the young man on the forehead. “You,” he says pointing a finger, “kept taking my camera. You had a good eye, even then. I’m glad to see you using your talent for good, now.”

The other reporters all laugh and the young man pulls Charles closer. “My grandfather still talks about you. He says, what happened that drunken white boy? He was such a terrible dancer!” He laughs, “You left quite the impression on my family.”

A tall woman with blue braids in her hair yells out, “Don’t say he does good work, Host! I have it on good authority that he uses his powers for evil, especially if there’s free beer involved!” The crowd of photographers and journalists laugh, still snapping away photos and rolling camera film.

Charles laughs, “He wasn’t a naughty kid, but already a very dedicated photojournalist.” His eyes are brimming with tears, one sliding slowing down his cheeks while the cameras flash not two feet away from them. “I wish I still had the pictures. They were very precious to me.” Charles shares his happiness in looking at the photos with his family, not the discovery of them with Erik smugly sitting with him. “My wife was especially fond of the one of me brushing my teeth.”

The young man wipes his eyes. “Thank you for that sir, I’m glad I could do that for you.”

They hug again and the crowd ‘ahhhs’ while crushing in to take the perfect shot of the moment.

Charles figures it’s enough to take their minds off of N’Dare. Besides he’d like a chance to catch up with the young man.

Aaron pats Charles on the back while they embrace and Logan beats the cameras back. As everyone settle down again, Charles tries to address the media, but Aaron interrupts him.

“Excuse me, sir. If you would allow one question for my paper?” He smiles, and his open inquisitive nature is still a beautiful thing to behold, Charles thinks. So he nods.

“How long are you going to hold the Mama N’Dare prisoner?” His face is suddenly stern and serious, the boy from the campaign entirely erased from his features. “Are you silently calling for tribute from the nations you wish to attack in her absence? How long before another war starts under the Great Patriarch?” He looks Charles in the eye, his expression angry now.

Charles is shocked to hear any of this. Camera flash bulbs explode nearby despite Logan. The dogs bark at reporters trying to get closer. Charles just stands there agape. “I have… that’s not what is going on,” he stutters.

“What are the tributes?” Aaron is the only one still near him. He’s unafraid of Logan’s claws and the barking dogs, determined to have his answers. “Answer me! Why was N’Dare taken this morning to Fort Ironclad? You have her imprisoned with former Shaw supporters and dissenters of your monarchy.”

“This is not a monarchy,” Charles says automatically. “There will be elections. We will step down from power.” He has said this many times over the last year.

Other reporters start to speak over Aaron, asking questions they are prohibited from in their Palace contracts. Charles feels lost and retreats to the throne. “No…” he says under his breath. “What have you done?”

Lila and some other guards join Logan. They forcefully kick the crowd of journalists out of the Great Hall. Aaron walks out with his back to the crowd, still focusing on Charles. He calls out of the crowd. “I remember when you were a good man, Xavier. You can be that person again. Renounce the False God of the Apocalypse!”

Logan and Lila follow the mob of media professionals as they’re ushered out of the Palace.

Charles sits alone in the Great Hall apart from Night and Day who circle the throne in a protective fashion.

 

Charles turns inwards. He closes his eyes and focuses on finding his other advisors. Tessa told him this morning that the issue was settled. Warren and Vincent brushed off his initial worry, both pushing their own agendas to the forefront of the meeting. One would think they would say something about the arrest of a fellow councilman.

_“TESSA!”_

_“Calm down, Charles. I’m in the library,” he can feel her smirking physically. “How goes the inquisition?”_

“Why is N’Dare under Ironclad?”

He feels a cloudy fog descend on her mind. She doesn’t answer him, and their connection is broken forcibly.

Charles grunts in frustration. He stands up from the throne, hardly paying any attention to the dogs trailing behind him. He marches through the hall and towards the main ballroom. There he finds Vincent playing the piano. The other man is dressed up in tuxedo. He asked this morning if he could host a group of mutant entertainers. He’s been pushing for the arts as a healthy diversion for all the people displaced by the Wakening. One of the last reports sent in from Darwin and Havok was that the shelters where filling up with alcohol and drug addicts. Charles has been happy to see Vincent focus on meeting a real need for the people.

But now, he’s angry to see the man playing at the keyboard. Vincent looks up and grins. “Charlie-o! Hope you got a nice suit. I was thinking we could improvise a song and dance number at the end…”

Charles storms over and grabs the man by his lapels. “Don’t! Why you all blocking me out!” He shakes the former Host. “What the hell is going on, Vincent.”

The man takes the attack with a blank face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charles. You talk to Big Papa about this?”

Charles backs away. He’s screams out in frustration. He feels Warren flying around just outside, so he bursts through the doors and yells up at the man. Warren quickly falls to earth, landing in front of Charles with a smile on his face. Charles feels the pain in his head thrumming with renewed gusto. He suspects he was in more than just time-out. He’s being punished. Or casts aside by the Great Patriarch. He never meant to lose favor with his protector. He’s not even sure of what his initial reasoning was for tracking Erik down. But he feels so much shame for doing so, he knows everything that happens now is his punishment.

Warren ducks down to kiss him on the cheek, “You’re even more lovely all blushed.” He’s been trying to woo Charles again. The telepath doesn’t have time to deal with the man’s dick.

“Can you feel me?” He rolls his eyes, “I mean. I’m trying to reach out to all of you, but you’re not answering. I know where you are and how you feel, but you’re not answering!”

The man offers his arm like a gentleman, and Charles refuses. He stands his ground ignoring the way Warren eyes the lawn. The man tells him, “We should take a walk. You’d feel better.” He offers his arm again, this time with his face set seriously.

Charles stands there and crosses his arms. “I’d feel better if I knew what was going on.” He narrows his eyes at the winged man. “And why are you the only one who knows anything?”

Warren mimics his defensive posture, “Because that’s how you wanted it. Or rather the other you. The Great Patriarch would prefer it if you didn’t interfere with his plans. He knows you adore that woman, but she’s been arguing for dissolvent of centralized power in Utopia. She’s becoming dangerous, Charles.”

“So you all had her buried under real criminals?!”

“Hardly.” Warren looks away, “Tessa and Vince tried to reach middle ground, but The First One knew better. Letting N’Dare do as she please now is a slippery slope Charles. She’s practically worshipped in North Africa. They call her daughter, a four year child, a goddess. She is a threat to our legitimacy not only Utopia, but the world.” He looks Charles in the eye and smiles. “I agreed with The First One that she should be sent away for the time. Just until things have quiet down. She’ll return when she’s… easier to manage.”

Charles can’t believe what he’s hearing. The Great Patriarch is undermining him and hurting his friends. “And you agree with all this, so he left your mind alone.”

Warren spreads his wings, steps away from Charles. Before he takes off he says, “I left my father and his company to be with _you_ Charles. I’m on your side. But this is what’s best for everyone.” He flies away and Charles curses his form as he disappears over the Palace.

He heads back to his rooms and slams the door. He sits on the floor and crosses his legs before projecting himself.

Falling into the Astral Plane, he sees the great, mysterious shadow.

He’s had enough of that, he thinks.

“Show yourself, you giant shit!”

The shadow slowly dissolves like falling gray ash around him. Charles is left in the mist but he can feel the presence of The First One still there. He’s almost afraid to turn around, knowing how the great being feels about disrespect. But Charles feels violated. He wants to lash at the thing that’s failed him this time.

He steels himself and turns around. The body of Brian Xavier stands there, but Charles refuses to find comfort in it this time. “How could you do this to N’Dare? She is one the purest souls I’ve ever met, and you treat her like an enemy. She didn’t make us ask for ‘tribute’. You did. She didn’t order the curfew, she didn’t shake the world apart. That was you and me.” He points a finger at himself, “I killed all those innocent people trying to bring you into the world. Chasing my own revenge. That is why I promised to step down from power. You promised to help me make a better world out of the ashes, but we both agreed!” He steps forward to the being in the eye. “We agreed to step down. Tell me you didn’t lie to me. That you’re not just using me,” he voice breaks as he continues. “Are you Father? Tell me!”

En Saber Nur sighs and looks at him with all the force an omnipotent being can put into being disappointed. “Oh my little Star.” He holds his out his hand, “My little Jewel. My Chosen One.” He smiles sadly and Charles accepts his hand. He falls into the man’s chest and sobs on his shoulder. The Great Patriarch runs his fingers through Charles’s hair. “It was not my intention to harm you. But what is done, was for the greater good.”

Charles lets the thing holds him, but he’s still angry. He looks him in the eye. “Please. I gave you everything I am to protect my family, and you promised…” His eyes fill up with new tears, “You promised everything would be fine.”

He keeps his head on the man’s chest, listening to a strong heartbeat. It lulls him, as the strong hands keeps him close. He doesn’t object to the feel of those hands on him as he dozes off.

He wakes up back in the real world with the Night and Day hovering over him. Logan looks down at him from over the bed. “Chuck are you alright?”

Charles smiles and stretches slowly. He forgets why he was so upset in the first place, but he’s had a pleasant dream. He smiles at the man and playfully kicks out a foot. “Why are you still wearing clothes,” he grins up at Logan’s frowning face.

The larger man sits down, turns Charles’s head from side to side. His grip tickles behind Charles’s ears and the younger man laughs. Logan’s frown only deepens. “I found you on the floor an hour ago, Charles. You were bleeding out your ears. Hank wants to get you to the hospital.”

Charles hears him, but he doesn’t hear him. “Hospital?” He tries to sit up but a heavy hand pushes him back down.

“Charles,” he frowns, “I sent Lila to Ironclad. N’Dare was found dead in her cell.”

Charles hears him, but he doesn’t hear him.

 


	12. And Torment Won't Be Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

Athens, Greece May 1967

 

Two weeks ago, Max Xorn invited his ‘benefactor’ to the factory city. He spoke to the masses about all the legitimate work Warren had promised them. Warren Worthington, Jr was happy to play along. Some random idiot asked after Callisto’s whereabouts but Magda told the crowd that she had already moved forward, to their new home. Shelter above ground where they could be fed and clothed. They could live in a real commune that was self-reliant. Just like the city they built.

Callisto’s crowd of followers numbered in the thousands, but on that day there was a crowd of eight hundred. They peacefully agreed to join their leader in the commune. Some stayed behind to pass the word around to other Morlocks.

Two weeks ago Max Xorn faithfully fulfilled his contract with Worthington industries.

Today he and wife stand on a sandy Aegean beach. He’s wearing only a pair of shorts and wide brim hat. She’s barefoot in a loose, flowing shift dress. Together they watch a ship sail away with nearly five hundred collared mutant passengers. A part of him is disgusted with himself for compromising his belief in Mutant superiority, but it’s for the greater good. In the end he’ll free the ones still useful and explain that Warren betrayed him and his wife as well. He knows that the gullible saps that freely walked on board a slave ship will believe him again.

Once the ship disappears on the horizon they turn back to their Villa. It’s almost time for breakfast and Erik knows how much Shiro likes French toast. He’s planning to make some and feed the boy before sending him on his next assignment for the Brotherhood. He’ll have to fly back to Kiev and give Destiny a message, but she probably already knows what he wants.

When they enter the villa Magda kisses him and pads off to their bedroom to take a shower. He sets to work on his task, eager to get his day rolling. He expects to find Shiro already in the kitchen.

He’s shocked to see Charles there instead.

The young man stands over a stove, humming quietly to himself as he stirs a pot. Erik smiles at the sight. Charles used to make them breakfast like this in Prague. He suspects the younger man fed him after the letting the cat eat at the counter but that doesn’t matter. What matters is Charles or something possessing Charles is here now.

He clears his throat expecting some reaction. The telepath fetches a bowl and spoons out cooked oatmeal. He serves it to the table and patiently waits for Erik to take a seat. So he does. Before eating, he greets his cook. “This is a surprise.”

Charles smiles, “I’m certain it is.” It’s his own voice, his own sweet face. But Erik knows it’s not Charles. The false god continues, “I see that betraying your own kind is fine so long as you profit from it, Magneto. I can’t say I like seeing this weakness in you.”

Erik doesn’t miss a beat before he responds, “I’m sorry to hear about the Earth Goddess. I understand she was close to Charles.”

The creature inhabiting the younger man bares its teeth and Erik pretends to be unafraid. “This is not the first time I’ve attracted a Host with so many suitors.” He moves to stand behind Erik’s chair, “All others wish to distract him from his true purpose.” He leans down to whisper in Erik’s ear. “I am a jealous god.”

Erik leans away from the voice and the eerie feeling of the world being _not right_.

The god laughs at him and stands up straight. He then sits across from Erik and grins. “This form has quite the effect on you. You’re all red.”

“And you’re a liar,” Erik volleys. “You’re lying to Utopia about your real purpose. You’re lying to Charles. And I know from personal experience that he hates being lied to. Despite being the consummate actor himself. Tell me, is my beloved aware that we’re speaking like this?” He’s half hoping the man is but he knows better. Charles is nowhere near any of this.

“Beloved?” The creature tilts Charles’s head like a bird. “You really are delusional.” He laughs again Erik feels his blood boiling with hate but he’s in no position to do anything.

Erik looks to living room from across the open bar in the kitchen, “My wife is just in the shower. Could you speed this up? I’d hate to upset her with your holy presence.”

Charles leans in smiling again with all those sharp teeth, “Your wife, now? You could have a widow.”

Chills run Erik’s spine, “You’d kill me now? Why? I haven’t even led you to the Akkabas yet.”

“Ah!” The god backs away, “So you do agree. I was starting to wonder. Well, not really. I have locked down the Host’s ability to reach you. You’ll never feel him brushing against your mind again. But I will still follow you, Magneto. You can take comfort in knowing you are never alone.”

The god vanishes before his eyes and Erik is left with a turning stomach. He stands up and runs to the sink. He vomits whatever was left from his dinner last night and slides down to the floor. Magda eventually returns from the bedroom wrapped in her bathrobe. She looks at him on the floor. “Why,” she starts but stops to shake her head. “Never mind. Look at this.” She hands him a piece of paper. She backs away from him covering her nose.

Erik recognizes Shiro’s graceful, calligraphic style. It reads:

_Dear Sir,_

_I am grateful for the time we’ve had together. I am sorry for leaving this morning without saying goodbye. I want you to know how important you and Ms. Magda are to me._

_But I believe the The First One has a purpose for me in this new world. I hope to make you proud._

_Forever yours,_

_Shiro Yoshida_

 

Erik balls the paper up and laughs. “He came to take the boy?!”

Magda stands there looking at him quizzically, “I don’t understand. Where’s Shiro? Does this have something to do Worthington?” She kneels down to look him the eye before a greedy smile spreads on her face. “How much did we get for him?”

Erik slaps her across the face. She cries out in surprise as he sits up to grab a handful of her hair. He drags her up and pushes her to the bedroom. “Go get dressed. Wear something that old man would like. You’re the one entertaining him tonight.”

She looks at him with wide eyes as he shuts the door.

Erik goes back to the kitchen and picks up the phone. He usually wouldn’t do something so easy to trace, but he has no choice now without his powers. And it serves his purpose anyway. He dials his contact quickly and someone answers after the second ring.

He searches for his pack of cigarettes and finds nothing. He scowls before speaking, “Starsmore?”

_“Lehnsherr? This better be important.”_

Erik gets up to walk around the bar still searching for his cigarettes. “Nothing really. Just your decrepit old ancestor sneaking around in the body of my fiancé. I’m a little put out, to be honest.”

_“I thought you were married?”_

“Shut up,” he says angry to be reminded of how far the sham has gone. “He wants me to lead him to you. He’s probably listening in right now…”

_“And you called!”_

“Well he’s a telepath not a computer. He can’t trace the call.”

_“You imbecile, the First One can manipulate technology as well! You’ve led him straight to me!”_

“Oh,” Erik sighs. “Sorry, I suppose. You’re probably overdo for a little family reunion. Try not to sound so scared.”

_“He’s not interested in having us all over Easter dinner, you asshole!”_

“No?” Erik looks in cabinet with the plates and smiles in triumph. His lighter and cigarettes are there for some reason. “Listen, it’s been nice chatting with you but I have to go.”

_“Erik! I will see you burn for this asshole! That girl, that boy, all of them! I’ll…”_

The line cuts off Erik doesn’t hear the rest of it. He sighs again, finding his lighter is out of fluid.

He spends the rest of day with Magda and Mr. Worthington. They discovered he was a lecherous old man back in Tel Aviv. He’s just not interested in Erik’s ass. Instead the old man smiles and paws at Magda and Callisto while they sit outside the pool. The gray-haired pervert told the women it was pool party. Neither of the girls can swim.

Erik is fine with sitting shirtless on a lounge chair. He can safely assume that he’s given up one of the lower houses of Akkaba to the false god. Perhaps it will sate his appetite for now and the being won’t make any more appearances. He smiles to himself hoping there’s a reward in his future. Maybe some alone time with Charles…

“Stop!” He hears a loud smack from across the pool.

Erik opens an eye in time to see Warren trying his best to control Callisto. But she’s stronger than the old man and could still win a fight with him hand to hand. Erik rolls his eyes and reaches for a remote by his leg. With press of button the woman’s body seizes and she sits back down.

Without his powers, the collars Erik helped manufacture are clunky and unattractive. They mar the woman’s overall appearance. Her tattoos and scars are plentiful and her skin is dark olive, her long black hair is pinned up. She looks like a model for Andy Warhol, completely other yet unmistakably beautiful. But the collar clashes with the whole thing. And where she fills out her tiny white bikini, Magda looks quite drab. She looks like a waifish young girl, wearing her brown bikini like a broomstick. He’s almost embarrassed to have brought her along.

His wife shies away from the old man’s touch and looks to Erik with her big sad eyes. He scoffs at her and closes his eyes again. He’s working on a new tan. He hates how pale he’s gotten living underground for so long.

He leaves Magda for a ‘sleepover’ and goes home to the rented villa. Warren spared no expense making sure Max Xorn was comfortable on the beach. It’s a shame, he thinks as he gets ready bed, that he has the place to himself yet no one to entertain him. The false god made sure of that when he absconded with his boy.

Erik lies in the clean sheets of his large bed. Finally, he thinks to himself. He’s back where he belongs. Not out on the street. Not in an alleyway or shelter. He didn’t have to kill anyone to get to this point. He’s playing both sides of the board and he intends to topple all the pieces. He feels the false god brush his mind for his nightly inspection. Erik makes sure to think of the lewdest thing he’s ever done with Charles’s body. He likes to think it keeps the being away.

However, he feels a pinch in his head tonight.

_“Unworthy.”_

“Shut the fuck up,” he says to the air.

_“Shall I cleanse you of your evil thoughts, Magneto? How best to erase these filthy impulses? Perhaps a view from the other side?”_

Erik laughs at the voice in his head, “I’ve been fucked before, your highness. I’m not a fragile little flower when it comes to sex. I can take it.” He almost dares the being to appear. Excitement thrums under his skin, thinking Charles could finally take him. He cock is getting hard, for the moment he doesn’t care whose driving Charles’s body.

_“You are pitiful. Baseness and weakness follows the hungry. You’ve been hungry all your life haven’t you boy?”_

Erik lays back and takes his cock in his hand, starts pumping to the voice in his head. “That’s right,” he laughs. “Now tell me I’m naughty.” He’s not sure where the bravado to tease a god comes from, but he keeps going, “Why don’t you come here and teach me a lesson? I’m sure Charles has always wanted to.”

_“No, Charles is repulsed by you in every way.”_

One sentence and his cock starts flagging. Erik sits up to growl at the air, “You’re just jealous! What he and I had was transcended! Even your possession can’t be as intimate as we were together. We know each other’s souls. You are just a parasite!”   He’s screaming to an empty room and doesn’t care. “Leave him and let him come home to me, where he belongs! You have no right to keep us apart!”

_“Even your Father knew better, Erik. The man that took a girl from her recital…”_

“Shut. Up.”

_“You remember the truth don’t you, Erik? What your Father did? The little crystal girl showed you a long time ago. Did you think it was false memory? Here, I’ll help you recall it.”_

“No…” Erik tries to get out bed, but an invisible forces knocks him back down. He feels pin to the spot. His eyes close and he’s no longer in own bed.

_He opens them to the face of a little girl. He recognizes his mother’s eyes in the mirror. No, he thinks. This was a prank, a joke on Emma’s part. Years ago because they hated each other, they tried to hurt each other with their talents. She gave him this memory. It’s not real, he tells himself. It’s not real._

_Edie smiles at her reflection. He knows this is shortly after her thirteenth birthday. She’s small for her age, but she’s already been praised for her talent as pianist. Some people call her Krakow’s Mozart. She’s going to perform tonight at the Fine Arts Academy for a showing of artwork by the students and professors. She’s especially excited because Leon Wyczółkowski has promised to paint her portrait. Her grandmother has taken special care with hair, setting her natural curls up in a very grown up bun. Her father and her mysterious patron bought her a new dress and she’s so happy to be dressed in real silk like a real woman._

_Her grandmother kisses her on the head after she finishes her hair. She starts to leave but her father tuts at her appearance from the doorway. “She can’t go out like that, Mama! Rouge, powder, she must be a fine lady tonight before the count arrives. We’ll show him you are ready for an international debut!”_

_She smiles and sits back down but her grandmother curses about men in sheep’s clothing. She didn’t like the foreign count at the edge of town. And she made sure everyone knew. But little Edie is full of hope for her future._

_The rest of evening goes by in a blur. She plays for the artists and the patrons while they walk the galleries. She sits for a photo with Leon who makes a date for her first portrait sitting. She stays for almost two hours, playing requested pieces and sometimes having ‘precious’ conversations with the adults. Her papa tells her they all like how smart she is, but they still think of her as child. It’s the patron, he says she really has to impress. The man in question arrives late to the party._

_Erik fights the memory he sees his Father, looking even younger. He’s dressed like royalty and arrives with a large entourage. He makes a bee-line for little Edie at the piano. He flatters her for her gift even though he hasn’t heard her play tonight. She offers her hand and he kisses it before talking over her head to other adults._

_Edie was angry to be ignored by her patron. She knew it was a show for the artists but it was her night. She started playing, a little rudely to get their attention back. She had it, and the man called Schmidt stayed with her at the bench. By midnight, the party started breaking up. Edie’s father had exchanged pleasantries with all the rich aristocrats and politicians and artists. He offered her services to some of them and exchanged contacts. It was all very boring, but before everyone could leave, Schmidt made an announcement._

_He got down on one knee and presented a velvet box to Edie. The people started whispering and gossiping eying the girl and her father. A collective sigh of relief was uttered when Schmidt opened the box, revealing a pair of diamond earrings. “To honor our future enterprises, young lady. You are astonishing,” he say before looking her father. “This little Princess was born to play piano. I’m sure we are all thankful for the gift you shared with us tonight.” He takes her hand and kisses it before standing up to shake her father’s hand._

_The crowd applauds Edie and her father pats his child on the back, proud of her._

_They leave the Academy as the others do, heading for their little family wagon when Schmidt calls them to his own covered carriage._

_“Please allow me to escort you two home, Fredric. It’s the least I could do. Janos! Take the man’s horse and cart back to his home. They’ll ride with me.”_

_A young Janos, no older eight or nine hops down from the top of the carriage by the groom._

_Edie enjoys most of ride, even though her Papa and Schmidt are talking about the war again. She looks out the window and watches the moon instead. She’s shocked to feel the head of her father slump over. “Papa!” She looks to her patron for help, “What’s wrong with him! Did he have a heart attack!”_

_The man leans over and listens to her papa’s heart. He backs away with a smile on his face, “I think he’s just sleeping my dear. Perhaps he had too much to drink.”_

_She slumps in her seat. “Thank goodness. Grandma will give him such earful when we get home.”_

_“Well,” he smiles as pushes her Papa over to his own seat. He takes his place and sits by Edie. “Maybe we could save him the embarrassment. My house isn’t far. We can stay there tonight and in the morning, I’ll give you another present.” He reaches in his pocket. “Chocolate, my dear?”_

Erik shakes and shakes in the bed, trying to wake himself up. He knows how this goes. He buried the memories of his mother’s screaming in his head after Emma first showed him. He knew at the time she was capable of planting suggestions and false memories. She gave him this particular nightmare to sow doubt in his head. He hated her for it so much that when it came to her own night of screaming under Shaw in her new rooms, he played Mozart as loud as possible throughout the Hellfire club.

He opens his eyes and sees that hours have gone by. He’s a sweating mess in the center of the bed. Erik sits up, desperately wanting a cool drink of water.

He goes back into the kitchen and is surprised to see Charles at the table. “Hello again, Magneto.” The man’s skin is almost gray, his eyes red, and lips darker than before. “Are you ready to make yourself worthy in my eyes?”

Erik goes to the sink and drinks straight from the faucet. He drinks and drinks until he can’t breathe. When rises from the sink he slumps against the counter. “What do I have to do now, oh great and powerful, Oz.”

The not-Charles raises an eyebrow and considers him a long moment, as if he didn’t already have something in mind. Finally he stops and scrutinizes Erik. “I want you to assassinate someone. Publicly. As brutally as possible.”

Erik laughs, “Are you going to give me a nice sniper rifle, hm?” He stands up straight and raises his hands, “I’m not going to attack anyone just to get caught. I don’t trust you to bail me out. Charles will have me killed if he sees me doing anything like that. Or will you hide it from him like you did with the Morlocks?”

The false god comes forward, and it feels like he’s taking up all the air around Erik. Erik chokes as the crackle of something in the air steals his breathe away. He doesn’t have time to wonder about it as Charles’s head gets closer and suddenly kisses him on the lips.

Erik nearly blacks out as pain shoots through his skull and down his spine. It feels as if every nerve in his body was set aflame. He backs away the being as the feeling escalates. He sees red behind his eyes before really does pass out.

When he wakes up again, he’s on the floor of the kitchen. The first thing he sees, is the kitchen sink. It’s warped and melted, like a Dali painting. In the palm of his hand is a small bronze coin with a set of scales drawn in the center.


	13. Yuletide

 London, England December 1952

The house is a complete mess.

Charles feels bad about the extra work the men and women working for his family will have to do. He helps out around the grounds and makes Raven and Hank clear up around the kitchen.

When Sharon Xavier says, “Everyone is invited,” everyone comes. And they bring friends. And friends of friends. This was the biggest Christmas party he’s ever seen in Graymalkin. He was hardly expecting it. There were clowns for god’s sake. By the end of the night, Sharon had probably had an entire acrobat troupe in her bed, Raven was planning to run away with the circus, and one of the butlers had been stabbed in the shoulder. It was an accident of course, but even that didn’t damper the party.

Charles concentrates on cleaning up outside. He’s fishing debris out of the pool, struggling with what appears to be a garter belt wrapped around a melon. He stops to go find a longer pole from the shed. He’s more than little surprised when he turns and bumps into his stepbrother.

Cain has filled out over the years. He’s been deployed with the Allied Forces and Freed Europe for the last five years. Charles’s lips curl up as he takes in the behemoth and the various muscles on top of muscles. “Cain,” he says finally. “You haven’t missed any meals.”

The man laughs and slaps Charles on the back. It’s hard enough to knock all the air out of the smaller man. “Merry Christmas, squirt.” He manhandles Charles until the sixteen year old is upright again. “Cut that shit out. Before you get me in trouble again.”

He starts to walk away and that makes Charles nervous. “Wait! The house is mess.”

“Fuck if I care. I’m going to bed.” Cain ignores him and keeps on toward the manor.

Charles wrings his hand. He options are few, he thinks. He can let this man in his home or he can stop him now. He is the master of the house with Kurt gone. Whatever guilt Sharon has about Cain’s upbringing can’t stop Charles from throwing the brute out.

He puts his hands down, then screams, “You are not welcomed in this house, Marko!” He throws whatever influence he can at his stepbrother. Cain stops, and turns to Charles with a miserable look on his face.

“Still messing around in people’s head? My dad didn’t deserve the shit you put on our family. You fell down some stupid stairs and split up the whole family!” He starts heading for Charles again, but stops just a breath away.

Charles has to concentrate to keep ahold of his stepbrother. He backs away a safe distance. “I was pushed, you Neanderthal. You and your father nearly killed me! Neither of you are welcomed around my family. State your business, Cain. Then leave.”

Cain growls at him, fighting his hold but staying put. “Don’t think you can keep me like this, Charlie. One good punch and BAM!” He grins, “You’re down. Do you want to keep me angry all day are you going to let me go see _my_ sister?”

“She’s my sister and she doesn’t want to see you!” Charles remember how his little sister held him in the hospital after stairs incident. She disowned the Markos and swore to protect Charles. He imagines her coming outside now, throwing her tiny body between her brothers and being pummeled by Cain’s fist. The thought sets Charles’s teeth on edge. He screams, “No one wants you here!”

Cain’s goes very still. Instead of talking back, he gasps and gurgles.   Red streaks break out in his eyes as they roll back and the heavy body of Cain Marko falls to the grass.

Charles stares at his stepbrother in shock. “Get up.”

Cain doesn’t move.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue and it’s a perfectly beautiful day. Charles looks around with his arms wrapped around his body. He says again, with command in his voice, “ _GET UP!”_

“Charles!”

The telepath hears his mother voice and wants to hide. So he does. He hides himself and the body not ten feet away. He keeps them both from perception until Sharon walks away. Hank comes outside after her, asking for Charles. Charles pushes to his friend, “ _Hank… I’ve done something. I need your help.”_

His friend is used to having Charles piggyback in his mind. He simply nods and tells Sharon that Charles probably took a car into town for cleaning supplies.

Sharon agrees. Charles can feel her hangover thrumming in her skull. She’s planning to go to bed and stay there until all this daylight business is over with. Charles stays hidden while Hank, blessedly tall and long limbed picks up the pole from where he left it.

“What’s wrong,” says Hank.

Charles sniffles and turns his back on the body. “It was accident. I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to, Hank. I swear it!” Charles may dabble in idle mischief with his powers but he’d never hurt anyone. At least he always thought that. He didn’t think he was strong enough to do anything. But here his stepbrother is bleeding out, his mind gone. Charles is scared. How could he do something like this, how could he be capable of doing something like this? Questions and guilt batter his mind but Hank grounds him to reality.

“Whatever it is, Charles. No one knows and no one needs to know. It can be just between you and me. Like that girl in Amsterdam.” He smirks.

Charles makes himself visible and runs to his friend. He sobs on Hank’s shoulder. The other boy is two years younger but nearly a head taller already. He’s a good height, Charles thinks. Not like him. Guilty, murderous runt that he is. He so caught up in his own misery he doesn’t see the old man in the yard until it’s too late.

The old man sees him, and looks straight at Cain’s body on the ground. Charles is baffled because he’s still hiding Cain.

He moves away from Hank and the other boy seems frozen in the spot.

The old man walks over to Charles, drawing out a pencil and yellow notepad. He hums to himself before saying, “Subject is overstimulated.”

A snap of flash and smoke appears. Charles gapes as a living devil inspects Cain’s body. “Oh my god,” he says to himself, “I’m going to hell!” Some nascent catholic belief has him terrified that he is seeing the real devil about to drag his stepbrother’s corpse off to hell.

The old man laughs before approaching Charles. “Our Charles is certainly a treasure. Now, if you would,” he extends his hand to Charles. Charles feels like this is all familiar and strange. For a moment he thinks he’s still in bed, maybe thrashing to a nightmare. But the old man sighs at and Charles thinks it would be rude not accept. A pair of devils in his yard, and he refuses them courtesy? Sharon would be appalled. So he hesitantly extends his hand.

As soon as the older man grips him, he falls to the ground. From this angle he can see Cain’s dog tags sticking out from under his body. He squints at the sight for a second before his eyelids feel all too heavy.

 

When he next opens his eyes there’s too much light. Too much sound. Too much everything. He shuts his eyes to block out the strong light, but there’s nothing he can do about the noise or the aches in his body.

“Please,” he says hoarsely. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” says a strange voice. The noise in room dims down, the light fades. Charles cracks his eyes and winces to the sight of his own reflection. He’s strapped down. Or up rather. He’s suspended at angle, several feet above a strange solution. The floor below him opens up into a pool of red and purple water.

“No! Help!” He cries out. He’s not afraid of the water, but he is terrified of the situation in general. Especially the part where he’s naked, as he distinctly remembers dressing this morning. He tries to reach for someone with his powers but no one answers. He feels closed off in his mind. His vision clears and he sees the old man from earlier and a [young man with white hair](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/124303181701/his-vision-clears-and-he-sees-the-old-man-from) and an curious look on his face. The room is large and filled with machinery and tools. The pool dominates the center of it. The young man moves to a table to fill a syringe.

“Don’t touch that,” says the old man. He chastens the young man who looks up at Charles with queer expression on his face. When Charles doesn’t say anything the young man frowns.   Charles glares at both of them but before he can demand answers the old man notices him. “Subject is recovering! A dip will do!” He belly laughs and slaps the other man on the shoulder, “In a pinch they say!”

“You’re not funny,” says the sour faced young man with white hair. Charles feels like he’s heard that voice before. The man who apologized for the lights is moving around, dimming things and checking Charles for discomfort.   He comes closer and looks Charles in the eye, a soft smile curling his thin mouth. “It’s all right,” he explains. “Just a bath to help you recover. Were you upset about something?”

Charles starts to confess. Surely, he thinks, this is some kind hell. Being interrogated by lovely strangers while old men laugh at him. Wasn’t there a devil, he wonders. Wasn’t he going to hell for his crimes? This must be it, he thinks. Where men who commit step-fratricide are sent, he thinks. All this thinking is not helping, he thinks finally. He settles for speaking.

“Am I dead?”

The lovely man smiles gently at him, “Hardly. You’re just dreaming, Charles.”

Charles looks down at the liquid below. It’s started to bubble and Charles flinches, “I’m having a nightmare about baths?”

The man laughs and reaches up with his hand. He brushes his fingers lightly across Charles lips down his chin. “Would you like another dip, Charles?”

The stranger’s eyes dart from Charles’s mouth to his eyes. Ah, thinks Charles, apparently still thinking about things. This man _thinks_ Charles is pretty. He can work with that if he’s in hell. Maybe the telepath can charm all the devils here. Perhaps rise up on Jacob’s ladder from the bowls of hell to the softest, fluffiest heaven. That would be wonderful. And completely unreal. Charles then reasons he may be drugged or impaired now. But why would the Satan need him doped?

“There’s no need to be frightened, you were asleep and we had to be sure you wouldn’t drown. I’ve been in there recently, it’s perfectly alright.” The young man runs a hand through his hair, “If a bit bleaching.”

“Little Red,” says the old man with a warning in his voice. “That’s enough of you interacting with the subject. We have three hours left before the other one proceeds with the wiping. I no longer require your assistance, you’re free to go.”

Charles is confused by everything they’re saying. His head aches but the young man seems less frightening than the old one. “My head hurts,” he explains. “Could you let me down from here, please? I have to go home. My mother would worry,” he lies unsure if Sharon is aware he’s not home.

The man considers him with an eager expression before looking back at the old man. “I can go in with him, sir. Just a little while. The snow queen is going to erase everything later.”

“Snow queen?” Charles frowns, “I don’t understand… is there going to be Turkish delight or something?”

The man with the nice smile backs away before addressing the old man, “Why doesn’t he ever remember? I’m on television all the time now. He should have seen me… he should know me.” The old man is about to argue but Charles has had enough of being a spectator.

“I want to go home! Now!” He looks between the two men. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing. I did something horrible and I have to… I have to tell someone.” He starts crying. “I killed my stepbrother. I didn’t mean to, but I did and now I’m in hell or something.”

“Honestly Charles,” says the nice, young man. He bops Charles on the nose with a finger. “I thought you were an academic. Hell? You think this room is what Hell looks like?” He moves to a table and presses several buttons before pulling a lever.

Charles revises his earlier hysterical notions. He is not in hell. He is in the secret laboratory of a mad scientist and some kind television actor. Superman is going to save him. Though, given his most recent crime, he was probably left in the clutches of these shady characters. He’s surprised when the slab he’s strapped to moves. It hovers over the solid ground and evens out to stand him straight. His feet touch the floor and he’s suddenly annoyed that the young man is actually quite tall. The man gestures with his hand, like he’s conducting a symphony. The straps that held him down open and leave him in a graceful arcs. He starts to sink to the floor but the man catches him.

“Are you an angel?” he asks. The man is very handsome and fair. Charles is not above exploiting an advantage. The man stares at his face before helping Charles to stand.

“You still think that?” The man stands there, holding him and staring at Charles. Charles endures the man petting him, softly running fingers through his hair.

The old man clears his throat and rushes over to separate them. “Enough of that Red, go find your little sister and bring her back.” He looks at Charles with a smile, “It’s time for some tea, young man.”

Charles stands there, feeling cold without the larger man holding him. He wraps his arms around himself and notices he’s still nude. “Where are my clothes?”

The old man shucks off his own lab coat and holds it out to Charles. Charles takes it quickly and wraps it tight around his body. The old man stands back and points to an exam table, “If you would join me here, please. That’s a good boy.”

Charles shakes his head, “No. I want to go home. Where are we? What happened to Cain? I killed… I killed my stepbrother and I have to…”

The old man laughs. “You don’t need to concern yourself. He’s with the Nazi bastard. Everything is fine. Your control slipped a little. I call it a growth spurt. I’m quite happy with it, actually.” He gives Charles a warm smile, “You are such a wonder, my little monkey.”

The old man walks ahead to the table, expecting Charles to follow him. Charles stays put, “I’m not a damn monkey! I want to know what’s going on! Who the hell are you?! Why am I here?!”

The old man stops smiling to look down at his himself and pat his pockets, “Do you mind, I left my notes in the coat. Be a dear, and hand them to me.”

Charles frowns but feels in the pockets of the coat. There is indeed a yellow notebook and pencil in one. He looks at the man before opening the notebook. The first page is a drawing of a mountains. Then several sketches of caves and weird architecture. Charles looks up at the old man, “Are you an artist?” He flips the page and finds writing he doesn’t understand. Pages and pages of it. And halfway in, there’s a sketch of a small child.

“Project is going according to plan, if a bit slow,” says the old man. “You won’t remember this, but I want you to know how proud I am.”

Charles feels frustrated, “I don’t even know your name. Why the fuck should I care if you’re proud of me!”

“Language,” chides the old man. “You have it in you to be more evolved, Charles. You mustn’t let fear drive you to acting like an animal. Even when you face incredible odds. Be the better man, Charles.”

The old man gives up on trying to get Charles to the table.

Instead he comes back and holds out his hand, “My notes, please.”

Charles offers them but the old man quickly reaches out and takes him by the hand. Charles falls to his knees, his vision darkens and the old man standing over him grabs him by the shoulders. Charles can’t speak or move but the old man is smiling at him.

The last thing he sees is the angel man returning to the room with a young woman.

 

Charles wakes up to the smell of grass.

Opening his eyes he sees the world is dark. The moon is out and he’s under trees. He sits up to take in his surroundings and he recognizes this bit of forest. It’s the land just outside of Graymalkin. He and Raven play hide and seek here.

He tries to stand up and finds it odd that his body is sore. He feels like he’s survived falling down a mountain. There are sores and scrapes all over his arms and legs. The wind changes and the smell of decay overwhelms his senses. God, he thinks, someone must have killed a bear or stag. Curiosity leads him to the end of the treeline.

There in the open field between the forest and the property, lies a body. He starts walking towards it when he notices something glinting in the moonlight. He leans down and picks up a pair of dog tags.

A feeling of dread sinks in his gut. Charles looks back out at the body, “…no.”

The tags read, “ _Marko. Cain._ ”

Charles can’t recall how he got out here, but he knows with every fiber of his being that the body up ahead is his brother and that he killed him. Charles’s eyes well up with tears and he tries to think of a way around this.

When he finally comes up with a solution he limps back to the house and goes to his room, unnoticed by everyone.

The next morning he hears screaming and crying downstairs. A brief glance at the minds of his maids and grounds men confirms that Cain was discovered. Charles turns on his side in the bed and waits.

Sharon and Hank come into the room. There’s two maids behind them trying to quiet Raven as she cries and kicks at her nanny. Sharon moves to Charles’s bedside, her eyes red as she tells him the news. “Your brother’s dead. Mr. Grants found him outside this morning. He didn’t even make it home.” She sobs, and leans on Charles.

He projects an illusion for Sharon and Hank. They see boy who’s just lost family, crying on his mother’s shoulder.

Not the murderer covered in bruises, clutching a stolen chain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait I was distracted.  
> 


	14. Dog House

 Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

Logan covered for Charles for almost two days.

Outside the Gray Palace there was riot and outrage. People calling the Great Patriarch a tyrant and a liar. Logan didn’t let Charles slip back into the Astral Plane. Hank has been hovering over him since Logan ordered his condition to stay secret. The burly man guarded Charles’s rooms, only allowing Tessa, Vincent and Lila to see Charles.

Warren was growled at by Night and Day, so he decided not push his luck.

Charles was slow to recover but after those first two days his memory came back.

With everything he’s been through with Erik and Shaw’s regime, the telepath has been violated time and time again. But the betrayal he felt when Logan explained for tenth time that his friend was dead, left Charles mute and cold. The first few days after he came back to senses were hard.   He didn’t sleep, fearing The First One would possess him. He didn’t eat or drink. He sat in the middle of his too-large bed and stared at nothing.

Charles had believed. He had faith. He wanted to do the right thing with his whole heart and now, he fears he was wrong. Something cracks in him after the first week. Tessa came to tell him The Earth Goddess was taken home, her funeral was being televised. She helped him up to his den, where Logan mounted the largest TV he could find months ago.

Charles sat down on the floor and looked up at the screen. Tessa and Logan sat nearby to watch as well.

They watched a little white-haired girl who cried as it rained on her mother’s grave. Charles then made up his mind. He would fix the fractured nation on his own. The Great Patriarch was no longer welcomed in Utopia.

The pain in his skull erupted like a fire but Charles resisted the power of The First One.

_“How dare you defy me, child.”_

“How dare you,” he says aloud while Tessa looked on in horror. “How dare you betray me like this?”

_“You think I would kill the ‘Mother’? You think I would benefit from having someone so strong fall from this world.”_

Tessa heard the First One’s voice as well and held on to Charles. She told Logan to go fetch Vincent.

“Why should I believe you now? You tried to hurt me! You pressed me down, and you stole from me. I can’t forgive that, En Saber Nur. I can’t let you use me again.” He sobbed but Tessa was there, rocking with him on the floor. He felt her reaching out with her powers to hold him up against The First One’s strength.

But The First One sunk away, _“I would never hurt you. You are my Chosen. I would sooner destroy my own self, before I harmed you. Believe me, child.”_

“I am not a child!”

Logan and Vincent entered just as The Great Patriarch was leaving. Charles was surprised to feel love and affection pushed through their link.

They weathered the few days of media speculation and public protest outside the palace. Darwin and Alex helmed an official investigation that they were keeping under wraps.

 

Until today, as one of Lila’s guards was assaulted by a group of almost a hundred men. The woman tried not to hurt them, but fearing for her life she used her ability to breathe fire. She killed several men while the others ran away screaming. Her name is Wyvern and she was one of the girls Shaw pushed on Erik years ago.

Charles has seen her memories of being treated like a novelty toy. She has deep purple skin and scales on her forearms and shins. Erik delighted in her mutation but tossed her aside when he ran out of ways to test her fireproof skin. Even though she explained she felt pain from his experiments, she appeared unmarred so he thought nothing of it. Charles has come across a handful of other women within Lila’s service with similar memories. He keeps them close, feeling a kinship with fellow victims of Erik’s twisted attention. But not so close. They are an everyday reminder of the trauma he faced before and while he shares their pain, they would never understand his own shame. However, Wyvern’s attack must be addressed publically, so that means having her near now.

Wyvern and Logan stand behind him now in the Great Hall. A select few reporters including Aaron Ibrahim wait for them to start. [Charles](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/124350070301/thank-you-for-coming-today-he-begins-i-know) has had the throne removed and stands at a simple podium.

“Thank you for coming today,” he begins. “I know you have many questions but first I’d like to say few words about my friend. N’Dare was a beacon of hope. A healer, a leader, and a mother. She was easily the most important figure for world justice and peace I have ever met. Losing her is…”

“How can you stand there and tell us this,” Aaron stands up from his seat in the front row. “How can you eulogize someone you had a hand in murdering?!”

The other reporters stand up as well. Some of them shouting and calling Charles a murderer while others dedicate themselves to recording the spectacle.

Charles has always been a fine actor. Appearing weak now would not help his position as a world leader. Appearing unemotional would make him look guilty.

Charles stands up straighter and looks over the crowd, he projects his own grief until they settle down. He’s learned from The First One that the common rabble often need a gentle hand, embracing them with love is better than letting them think he’s the enemy.

He comes from behind the podium, “I did not kill my friend.” He tells them all, but he’s looking at Aaron. “I did not kill the woman who blessed my injuries, who gave me council. The godmother of my son… a champion of peace. I _did not_ kill N’Dare.” He scans their minds. They are not completely swayed. Most of them believe he had nothing personal against her, but they think the new regime in Utopia did. He holds his hand out for Wyvern to join him.

“This woman is a guard with the Gray Palace security. She was coming into work today when she was attacked. The people outside these walls are angry, and they have every right to be so. But she did not deserve their vitriol. The twelve men who died as she tried to defend herself, did not deserve to die either. This is all product of misdirection and miscommunication. My detractors would have you believe that this is tyranny. That the Great Patriarch plans to drive the world into chaos while he takes absolute power.”

Charles motions to behind the podium.

“The throne is gone. The seat of power is retired. The only governance here is to help guide the world to a better state in the future. Elections will be organized in the coming months. I will not run for office. I will stay on board as an advisor until the government is transitioned and solidified. This has always been our intention, as N’Dare knew well. I had hoped…” he looks away to wipe a stray tear from his eye, “That she would consider running for office herself.”

The cameras explode and Aaron steps forward before Logan raises a hand to stop him from coming nearer. He looks between Charles and Logan with confusion written on his face, “What are you saying Xavier? You were going to make Mama the President of Utopia.”

Charles shakes his head, “A nominee yes, but it would have been up to the citizens. After an intense investigation…” he looks to Logan hoping the man won’t challenge his decision in public, “We have come to the conclusion that she was secreted to Fort Ironclad by traitors, murdered by a foreign influence. No one within Utopia has anything to gain from her death.” The crowd murmurs and speculate so he has to be clearer, “We believe this was an act of assassination by the Allied Forces of Freed Europe and North America. We demand that representatives come forward immediately to address this. Including N’Dare’s own cousin, General Adina Arlington.”

He steps back as the crowd goes frantic, asking question and taking pictures. Charles retreats behind the podium again, “Until that time, there will be a new curfew in Utopia. Movement is restricted to official citizens. Please understand this is only temporary as the Palace investigates the situation further. We will not tolerate the machinations of men and women who deliberately set fire to the world. We will not tolerate another war in Europe or anywhere else. We will put a stop this immediately, for all our sakes. That is all.”

He turns away and briskly leaves the hall with Wyvern in tow. Logan and few of the guards usher the reporters out of the palace.

Wyvern is on his arm sobbing while he leads her to the sitting room where the council often meets.

He sits her down near Vincent and moves over to bar. Charles is surprised to find his mother behind it already, reaching in a mini fridge. She comes up with some fruit and a soda water. He can tell she’s still sober, and has started making virgin cocktails to ease her mind.

He kisses her on the cheek as she smiles sadly at him and sits down, determined to stay out of the way.

Warren clears his throat to start the meeting. “I think we can all agree this going badly.”

Vincent has a hand on Wyvern’s shoulder, pushing back her uniform to inspect her injuries. They had thrown rocks and cans at her while she walked to work. She wasn’t really harmed until they started pushing her and throwing bricks. Her shoulder is bruised and bloody. There must not have been time to get her medical attention.

Vincent tuts over the woman as he treats her, “I don’t know why you care. You were in on it! En Saber Nur set all of us up. And you played along while we were being manipulated.”

Vincent is rarely so coherent. Everyone listens as he turns his full attention to Warren. “You are not a real councilman. We didn’t ask you to be here, he did. Only to use you against Charles. I know how the monster works. I spent years with him whispering in my ear while I was frozen. I was harvested and milked like a fucking cow while he promised to make things better for me. It was lie. He is always a lie!”

He huffs before turning back to the woman and Charles and Tessa share a look over his head. Tessa reaches out gently, “You never speak of your time as Host, Vincent. We all thought you were sleeping because of Essex’s virus. Was that not the case?”

Charles walks over and kneels in front of the man, drawing his attention, “Tell us. What do you remember Vincent.”

“Bullshit,” interrupts Warren. “He’s a babbling loon half the time. He doesn’t remember. Now The First One spoke to me personally, he gave me a token to show his favor! I am a real member of this council!”

Vincent stands up and almost knocks Charles over. “You are snake in grass! You’re hoping to get a piece of Charles’s ass at the end of the day, but he’s still not that into cocks, you fucking bird!”

Warren’s wings spread out in a burst and he takes off in the small space. He hovers over Vincent and Charles, “He deserves better than you two invalids!”

“Invalids!” Screams Tessa as she stands up beside Vincent.

Charles moves between all three of them. He raises his hand and shushes everyone until they stop snarling and snapping at each other. Warren settles on the ground and Charles speaks to him first. “I believed in him, too. But the purpose of this council isn’t to raise me up, Warren.” He looks Tessa in the eye. “It’s to keep me grounded.”

Her eyebrows knit as she nods and whispers, “Memento Mori.”

Vincent looks between them and grins, “It works! You’re alive again!”

Charles gives each of his friends a pat on the shoulder. “Adina will be here in few hours.” He turns back to Warren, “I want you to escort her and the other officials to the Great Hall. I’m going to rest while I can. We have a long day ahead of us, Warren. We can’t afford to be fighting each other. There’s too much at stake, you understand?”

The man nods weakly before leaving the room.

Charles leaves as but not before hearing Sharon input. “Wear the blue suit, baby. It brings out those eyes I gave you. I’ll send Ambrose up to dress you.”

Charles rolls his eyes. He despises Ambrose. The man or woman is a malevolent mutant fashion diva determined to keep Charles poked with sewing needles. The worst part is the man or woman switches pronouns and Charles never knows, even with telepathy what to call him or her. Also she or he is terribly attractive and completely distracting when she or he isn’t insulting Charles’s taste in clothes or calling Sharon the only class in the family. Ambrose worships Mrs. Xavier.

 

He makes it back to his room to find Night and Day up on the bed. “No!” He shouts, “You two are starting to shed. Down, now.”

They always seem to understand whatever he says. They’re quick to get down, though they whine as they leave the room altogether. Charles flops down on the floor beside the bed. He toes off his shoes and before rubbing his temples. His head is thumping from what Hank called elevated pressure. More blood going to his brain to accommodate hosting another presence. Even though The Great Patriarch is quiet, he’s hardly gone. Charles still feels like his standing in the other’s shadow. He eyes his nightstand where Hank left several pain bottles. Hank is hardly privy to all the drugs he’s was subjected to in Berlin. Charles does have some favorites now. He sits up and finds a bottle with little white and yellow pills. Side-effects include drowsiness, dizziness and dry mouth. He pops two in his mouth and swallows them dry before laying on the bed.

“You are still starting a war, Chuck.”

Charles doesn’t move. He listens as the Canadian lumberjack moves around the room. “Come to bed and rub my neck, darling. I have an awful headache.”

Logan laughs before he sits on the bed. All the weight of the metal in his body makes him heavier. “You know I want to see Stryker pay for what he did to me and the other mutants. If you sister hadn’t gotten me back out in time, I wouldn’t be here. I owe her. I owe you. But I’m not a soldier anymore, Charles. I’m not sticking around to fight in The Old Moldy One’s war.” He leans over and uses his broad hands to deeply rub into the smaller man’s shoulder. “Fuck, you are tense.”

Charles barks out a laugh, “Well at least you’re here.” He stretches out, then turns over to give the man access to his back. “At least I don’t have to pay for this service.”

Logan moves around behind him, taking off his shoes before climbing on the bed and straddling Charles’s legs. “Service with a smile, Chuck.”

Charles moans as the man’s hands dip under his shirt collar. They knead the skin and muscle perfectly. Charles feels a hundred times better already. The pain in his head easing as his blood redirects. “Oh that’s good timing.”

“Hm,” says the older man. He lifts up and pulls the back of Charles’s shirt up. “How ‘bout that lower back? We need to get you get naked. Maybe some oil. Candles. The whole shebang. Hell, I oughta charge ya.”

Charles grins into his pillow then sits up on his elbows. He looks back at the other man, “I have about one hour before Ambrose storms in here with the pincushion of doom. Do you think we could do something else to help me relax?” He tries to sit up when he gets an idea.

He lays back on stomach and closes his eyes.

Logan moves around behind, getting undressed and digging through the nightstand. He returns with a flop on the bed and slaps Charles on the legs. “Hey, come on. No sleeping on the job, bub. This particular activity is going to require you to wear less and move more.”

Charles sighs softly and turns his head, “Or.”

“Or what?” Logan leans over him, “Or you just going to lie there and think of England?”

Charles smiles before biting his lip and going still again. “Or you can wake me up like a princess in a fairy tale. Undress me and kiss me awake. Go on.”

“That’s not my kind of kinky, Chuck.” He slaps Charles hard on the ass, “But I’ll try anything once. Okay Sleeping Beauty?” He doesn’t question Charles’s motives, he just does as he was told. He starts by flipping Charles over. Charles tries to maintain a straight face as the other pokes and prods at him. He lets out a laugh as a thick finger pokes him in the ribs.

“Stop it,” he giggles. “I’m supposed to be sleeping!”

“Well,” says Logan before poking him again, “I’m just making sure. I guess you’re fairest in the land, huh bub. Slim picking around here, I guess.”

Charles slaps the other man on the shoulder before laughing out loud again. “Stop!”

“Don’t blame me for the commentary. People say all kind shit when they think you’re sleeping. Besides, unconscious princesses shouldn’t hit so hard.” He pinches Charles but even that tickles enough to send the man into a laughing fit.

Charles closes his eyes tight, “I am not a princess!”

“Talking in your sleep is a turn off,” says Logan. He opens Charles’s shirt and pulls the man up as he gets it off. He drops Charles on the bed with a bounce and the younger laughs and wiggles again. “Might be snorer.” He undoes Charles’s belt and tosses it to the side before unbuttoning his slacks and pulling them off with a yank.

Charles is left in his briefs with his arms over his head. He licks and bites at his mouth in anticipation but Logan doesn’t do more than knead the skin over his hips. The big capable hands move up to his sides and chest. It feels so good, Charles almost nods off for real. He almost shocked to feel the scrape of stubble on his chest as the other man licks and bites at him. The talented hands move down to play with waistband of his underwear before pulling them off. Then all the touching stops and Charles is left alone.

Charles cracks open an eye to see Logan kneeling over, pumping his thick cock in his hand. Charles gasps at the sight and tries to sit up, suddenly desperate to get the thing in his mouth.

Logan pushes him back down. “I thought you were sleeping, Aurora?”

Charles lays down but can’t close his eyes again. He spreads his own legs waiting for the man to do anything at this point, “Who’s Aurora?”

Logan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop preparing himself. He pours some of their oil on his fingers before leaning down on one arm. He finds Charles’s hole with muscle memory and gently pumps one finger in and out. He adds another when Charles closes his eyes. Then another when the younger man turns his head, exposing his neck.

The larger man leans up to bite at his neck as twists and scissors three thick fingers inside of Charles. They haven’t been intimate since Charles woke up. They’ve had so many problems in the last few months, and Logan is nothing like Erik. He doesn’t take what isn’t freely given. He’s patient and careful, especially with their size different. He doesn’t like bruising Charles. He waits and waits for the younger man to want him first. Now he bites and sucks careful to avoid anywhere that will show later.

He pulls his fingers out and deftly cleans them on the bed before kissing Charles on the chin, then the cheek. He avoids his mouth as spreads the younger man’s legs further and lines their bodies together.

Charles tries to stay still, but he’s writhing at this point. “Please. Wake me up, Logan. Please.”

The older man leans in capture his mouth in a deep kiss. Charles moans into before raises his hand to Logan’s head. He wraps his legs around the broader man urging him forward.

When Logan finally enters him and starts to move, Charles cries out and closes his eyes. He moves his hips to meet the man’s thrust, before kicking him with his heels. “Come on, Logan. I’m not made out of glass. Come on,” he says breathlessly.

The older man chuckles before biting down on his shoulder. “Alright you little minx. You get what you asked for.”

Charles smiles up at him, “And you always deliver.”

They laugh before Logan changes his pace and his angle. He drives into Charles again and again. The younger man can’t help closing his eyes. He never can when he’s really into it. He cries out and scratches at Logan’s back as they both finish quickly. The heavier man is mindful of crushing Charles and moves over to the side, spooning him instead.

Charles hums to himself while Logan nips and kisses at his neck.

Neither of them are thinking about the procession of diplomats marching towards the Gray Palace.

Charles feels a strange and distant satisfaction in the back of his thoughts and chalks it up to being well fucked.


	15. The Bent Bullet

Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

The Host of The First One tried not to doze but didn’t succeed.

He wakes up with a start when all the curtains are pulled back, exposing his bed to noonday light. Ambrose stands over him with a look of disgust plastered on his or her face. “Honey, no. I really didn’t know he was such a bear. How am I going to get you decent when you look like you were scraped with Brillo pads!”

Charles takes in his naked appearance. At first he thinks it’s not so bad. Then he realizes he’s very naked. “Ambrose!” He screams he covers himself with what appears to be Logan’s hand. “Get out!”

Logan barely stirs behind him. He peeks at the spectacle for a moment, and once he’s sure no one is in danger, he rolls over. Leaving Charles exposed again.

Ambrose waves his or her hands at them and retreats to the other room. “I’m going to set up for your fitting. You have twenty minutes, Professor!”

Charles is about to get up when the flamboyant mutant returns, “And don’t forget! We’re doing hair and makeup today so say goodbye to all that peach fuzz and that dust mop you pretend is a haircut. I’m doing Raven first, so you have time to scrub thoroughly. Don’t make me come in there!” He or she waves a finger before slamming the doors shut.

Charles stands up on sore legs, his thighs burning and a definite ache in backside. Logan, the bastard, smiles as he hobbles away. “Don’t blame me when she comes back insisting you use an enema!”

Charles stops, “I don’t… She? Is Ambrose a woman?”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “You can’t tell?” He sniffs the air rather rudely, Charles thinks. “She’s a shapeshifter, like Raven. But she can only do two human bodies and animals. I can usually smell the difference in pheromones. Today, Ambrose is definitely a she.” He leans over and pulls a light and cigar. “She’s a little turned on at moment.” He starts smoking in the bed, completely unconcerned with his own nudity.

 

The hour between his lunchtime fitting and the official meeting with the diplomats fly by. Charles passes Ambrose’s inspection and is given a gray suit. Before the creative fashionista lets him go, she insists that he gets a haircut.

“I had long hair this morning, on camera. Shouldn’t I leave it alone until later?” Even though he protest, he submits to her draping him with cloth covered in rubber duck print. Her name is written in shiny beading on the front.

Ambrose clucks at the telepath and pushes him onto stool. Charles is surprised when a pair of scissors appear in front of his face. His hair hacked away with efficiency. Ambrose stands away to squint at him from one eye, then the other. She gives Charles a big smile before patting herself on the back. “I’m so good at this.” She disappears in flurry, leaving him alone.

Logan comes out of the bedroom. At least he’s half-dressed before he gets back to his post, thinks Charles. The man whistles. “Sharp. You almost look your age, Xavier.”

[Charles ](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/124460037486/charles-goes-to-a-mirror-to-check-and-nods-along)goes to a mirror to check and nods along. “It’s the not the worst haircut I’ve ever had.”

Logan chuckles, “You mean like when you mommy puts a bowl over your head?”

Charles’s face drops. There are some serious, and unfortunate memories of that exact thing happening to him for almost a decade. He looks the burly man in the eye and says, “Shut. Up.”

Logan laughs at his childhood trauma so Charles gives up waiting on the man.

 

He seeks out Raven who should already be in the Great Hall. Instead he finds a large crowd of diplomats being settled in improvised seating. Charles stands to the side, unseen for the moment.

Warren ushers General Arlington to the front row, bows and leaves her and her assistants there. Beside her is a few other Generals from the Allied Forces. Two from Freed Europe and one American. The American is General Chester Phillips, the man who recruited Steve Rogers for the American super soldier program. He’s also the man who had the good judgement to shut the program down after Rogers came out virtually perfect.

Charles scans them all for any thoughts of betrayal. They are all suspicious of The Great Patriarch’s motives. Chester is on high alert. He’s brought along armed guards and almost dares Charles to say anything about the invisible mutant sniper he has waiting in the wings.

Charles draws the man’s attention and points up to the balcony where his guard is posted. _“There’s no need for so much precaution, General Phillips.”_ The old man looks up in time to see his ‘invisible’ guard appear to pass out. _“He’s alright, but that’s hardly the way to start our talks.”_

The man only huffs and crosses his arms.

Arlington’s eyes glow red as she waits. Charles can hear thunder in the distance. He’s never seen the full force of her mutation, but knows like her cousin she can heal people and manipulate nature. She sits on the edge of her seat, ready to defend herself. Being named in the death of N’Dare has unsettled her and she intends to clear her name while putting _Captain_ Xavier back in his place.

Charles notes that General Stryker is late. It’s not a secret that he’s been investigating the man and the head of Trask Industries for their crimes against mutants worldwide. They were both called here before the press conference and he knows they are in Utopia.

He blankets the city with his powers, but stretching so far hurts while he’s still actively trying to block the Great Patriarch’s link. He focuses on his allies instead. “ _Tessa_ ,” he projects, “ _Any sign of Stryker or Trask_?”

_“I feel one of their drivers. They rounding up to the front of the Palace now. Darwin and Havok are out there to check them for security.”_

Charles frowns, “ _I can’t extend my powers very far…”_

_“I know. But I can’t feel either of them. They must be blocking telepathy.”_

Charles makes a fist punches the wall, growling. “Those two fucking criminals.”

_“Charles.”_

_“I know,”_ he collects himself. _“I’m going out there. I’ll check them both myself.”_

 

He marches away from the Great Hall and heads for the gates. Warren spots him and follows. “Charles!” The winged man catches him before he’s out the door. “Where are you going? You need to be inside.”

Charles pulls away, “I need to make sure those two bastards aren’t planning something. I’m going to read them before we start the inquisition.” Charles tries to leave again but the angelic man stops him. He pushes Charles up against the large palace doors.   Charles panics about being groped in public and lashes out, “What’s wrong with you!” He knees the other man in the crotch.

Warren falls away but he’s hardly hurt. “Charles you need to stay inside!”

Charles ignores him as he opens the door, determined to see Trask and Stryker for himself.

He sees Trask getting out of the back of his car. Darwin leans down to frisk the man before moving onto to Stryker who’s already standing to the side. The men all begin walking to the Palace entrance, flanked by guards with Darwin and Alex leading the way. Charles means to intercept them but Warren yanks on his hand and pulls him back.

“Charles,” the man says just before a gunshot rings out.

Two more shots echoes in the air and Charles stares at the expansive courtyard. He pulls away from Warren to look around, “Who did that! Where are the shots coming from?!”

Darwin and Alex run over to him, covering his head and pushing him down. Darwin draws a gun and looks to the roof, “Up there! I heard it come from up there!”

The crowd around Trask and Stryker have raced for cover. They all rush inside the Palace’s grand foyer. Charles tries getting back outside to scan for the threat but Darwin pushes him to the ground, holding his head, “Charles you were shot!”

Alex checks his head and corrects his boyfriend, “No he’s just grazed.”

Charles doesn’t feel any pain and barely acknowledges the tacky feel of blood running down his face. “We have to get back out there and find out who did this!”

Alex applies pressure to his wound. His good eye surveys the room, “Someone with them was hit! Hey what’s going on over there?”

Charles gets up to see to the crowd. People are pouring into the room from all over the Palace. Hank rushes in with his medical team. The crowd separates enough for Charles to make out the small body of Bolivar Trask being strapped to a gurney. Stryker still lies on the floor, his skin gray and half his face missing.

Charles covers his mouth. He’s not sorry for that man dying or Trask’s injuries, but this interferes with his plans to bring them all to justice. Worst, it will make him look all the more suspicious to the world.

This has all gotten out of control.

_“Then take back control.”_

“I’m not speaking to you,” he says aloud while Alex looks at him with puzzled expression. He ignores his friend and tries to keep blocking the Great Patriarch.

_“Look around you, child. This is not something they are equipped to understand. You have to take the situation and mold it to your own purposes. You’ve done it before.”_

“No,” says Charles still resisting.

_“I can help you. Lay your burden on my shoulders, my Shining Starlight. We can do anything together. But we must act as one, Charles. I am not your enemy.”_

“I can’t do that. I won’t do that to so many innocent people!” Alex looks truly worried now and leans away. He waves for Darwin to come back but the man has taken Warren outside to scout for the shooter.

_“We can fix this together with but a nudge in the right direction. Stay them, Charles. If your friend saves that man’s life, we’ll be back to square one.   Make them all quiet and still as we rearrange the chaos to fit our purpose.”_

“ _And from the ashes,”_ Charles recalls some of The First One’s earliest words to him. “ _We will build a better world_.”

_“Yes, my child. Help me ascend, truly. Stand at my side, Charles. Where you belong.”_

Charles fights with himself, indecision and suspicion war inside him. He doesn’t think he can trust the voice in his head anymore, but what choice does he have? If Trask and Stryker are dead, then two of his greatest detractors are downed in his own home with plenty of witnesses to point the finger at him.

But… and there is a but. They are not the only victims. “Someone shot at me?”

_“And they failed, as they may have done with the small one.”_

Charles leans away from Alex. “We can use that. Someone shot at me. Someone tried to kill us. This isn’t Utopia’s doing.”

_“Exactly, child. We are under attack. We must protect ourselves. Do what must be done.”_

Charles raises his fingers to his temples, the pain in his head feels even greater. [His eyes burn](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/124512787831/charles-leans-away-from-alex-we-can-use-that) as he concentrates on saving his position in Utopia.

Everyone in the Gray Palace freezes.

 

Charles stands up to take it all in. He walks over to where Stryker lays with his head torn apart. There were three gun shots. Was there three different guns, he wonders? How could one shot tear the man’s face off and another merely scrape his head. It must have been different guns, he reasons. He steps over the frozen bodies of Hank’s subordinates. Trasks lies still, bleeding heavily from his throat as the people around him are unable to stop the bleeding. Charles bites his lips before leaning down to move Hank’s hand. This wound is small and concentrated. Blood pours over his fingers and the small tycoon goes gray from exsanguination.

He walks calmly to the doors that lead to the Great Hall. They’re already held open by the people that were running out to deal with the commotion. Military officers and guards with their guns bared. Mutants ready to use their powers to defend their Generals.

_He walks right up Arlington and sifts through her mind. Her last thoughts were of Charles. She thought he was in danger, and ran to answer with her own strength even as her assistant tried to hold her back._

_“This one is like just like all of her kin, Charles. She has a mind for justice that is admirable. Let her believe that she is in the right, and has served her duty.”_

_Charles rewrites her mind. When she wakes, she’ll remember being outside and witnessing the attack. She’ll remember coming inside, concerned for Charles after he fainted from his injuries._

_He examines the other Generals and gives them similar memories. They will think they saw the shooting, witnessed it firsthand as someone attempted to assassinate the Host. He even throws in additional gunfire. They were all targeted by the enemy. Whoever did the shooting meant to take attack all the world powers._

Charles lays down on the floor and crosses his hands over his chest.

_“Warren has apprehended the shooters. See for yourself Charles.”_

_Charles sees through the eyes of bystanders outside. Warren flies down from the roof of the Palace. He’s carrying a small boy and rifle. “Shiro!” Charles almost sits up in surprise._

_The Great Patriarch sighs, “I cannot see his thoughts, Charles. He must be guarded by that technology. We shall have to interrogate him after it’s removed.”_

_Charles grits his teeth before agreeing. “He’s just a child. He wouldn’t do something like this without Erik’s approval.”_

_“You think that broken man had something to do with this? I do not feel him anywhere. You stripped him of his powers. He’s a wanted man in Utopia. He could not come here to do this damage. But the ones who saved him, Charles. My own faithless children, they would do this to possess me again, you know that.”_

_Charles opens his eyes. He forces Alex and one of the doctors attending Trask to stand up and come to his side. They walk like zombies as they position themselves around him. Charles lays head in Alex’s lap. He closes his eyes._

_“We will wake them and let the pieces fall where they may.”_

_Charles worries. “Darwin and Warren aren’t edited. Darwin is hard to rewrite and Warren…”_

_“No child,” corrects the Great Patriarch. “I will take care of it. Sleep, and wake up when this is over.”_

 

Charles wakes up in hospital bed. Surrounded by a team of doctors. Raven is speaking to Aaron Ibrahim in the doorway.

“He’s recovering. Eyewitness account from the Generals say he was shot first. Then the entire group was fired on. Charles is lucky Darwin was there. If not for his quick reflexes, my brother would have been much like General Stryker.”

Aaron nods while looking into the room. He sees Charles is awake and motions with his pen. “May I speak to him?”

Raven turns to see her brother up and smiles at him. “No. We’ll release an official statement through the council later. Tessa and Vincent are preparing a statement for broadcast in thirty minutes. Thank you for being so patient.” She reaches out to shake his hand and he takes it.

“I’m sorry for doubting his intentions. The man I remembered from my childhood was a like a big brother. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.” He pulls her in for a hug, “And I’m sorry for bringing so much ire to your doorstep so soon after you lost.”

Charles feels like his heart has climbed up to his throat. He doesn’t say anything as Aaron leaves and Raven comes to his side. She tells the doctors to clear out as she sits by her brother.

Charles lets a few tears fall down his face, “I remember when Cain died,” he says. “I remember thinking before that all I wanted was to see him dead and then after he was gone, I cried.”

Raven wipes the tears from his face and leans down to kiss him on the cheek. “You have a big heart Charles. You’re empathetic even with the people who don’t deserve it. I love and hate that about you. Things were getting really scary there. What happened to the Great Oz?”

Charles smirks, “He hates when you all call him that.”

“Whatever,” she smiles and tucks his sheet up. “Why didn’t he take the reins and put everything back in order?”

Charles feels the Cheshire cat smile of satisfaction in the back of his mind. The pain in his head feels better. He smiles up at his beautiful sister. “Because he respects me. He didn’t want to take over after I withdrew my consent.” He smiles tightly as he lies, “And he would never hurt me just to seize power. He really loves me, Raven.”

She frowns a little but pats him on the hand, “Okay. I guess that’s… fine.” She sighs and he feels her doubting his judgement. He pushes her away to a distraction. Raven gets up to kiss on the head again, “I’m going to check on Alex and Darwin. Darwin must have taken a bullet for you in the head, but Hank is sure he’ll get up soon. He’s hard to put down, our Captain Muñoz.”

“Don’t I know it?” Says Charles.

She leaves and Charles and retreats to the Astral Plane.

He stands in the shadow of the Great Patriarch but this time it shrinks and shrinks and until they are eye to eye.

“Well done, my child.” Says the voice of his father.

Charles keeps his distance, circling the other man. “I’m not your child, En Saber Nur. I’m your co-conspirator now. What did you do to Darwin?”

“He will recover in time.   It’s not important.”

“And Warren?” He stops just in front of the man wearing his father’s face.

“What about the Angel?”

“He tried to stop me from going outside. He knew about the attack.” Charles crosses his arms and steps up to the Great Patriarch now that they are of almost equal height. “Tell me what you’ve done. Make me understand how any of this is for the betterment of the world.” He stays very calm. His want to believe buoys him in dangerous waters. His hope keeps his faith floating but his doubt is like a shark, waiting for something to sink. Waiting for him to be vulnerable.

The First One is still wearing the face of Brian Xavier. He smiles at Charles before stepping forward to kiss the young man on the head.

Charles snatches away, “I mean it. Show me your real face and tell me truth, Father. Before I give up on all of this.”

The visage of the man before ripples until he’s left facing a strange warrior. Tall, gray-skinned, red-eyed and dark lips. His hair is long and pulled up to the top of his head. He smirks, with the dark lips, a peak of violet tongue licks out before he really smiles with large sharp teeth. The face of a young mutant from a time that didn’t understand what he was. He’s shared his beginnings with Charles before. But this is the first time Charles has so clearly seen him.

“En Saber Nur.” The telepath reaches out and to touch the man’s face and is surprised to find it soft and yielding. He’s not made of stone. He’s not cold and hard.

The Great Patriarch takes his hand, holds it between his own palms and presses it to his naked chest. Charles feels a strong heart beating below his fingers. “I would have you see me,” says The First One. “For what I really am, Charles Xavier. I see you clearly. Do you want to know me, my Shining Star?”

Charles stares wide eye. He doesn’t answer but he lets the other man pull him forward.

The First One lays another gentle kiss to top of his head, “Wake up, child. Wake up and trust my judgement from now on.”

Charles looks up in a daze, “But...” He’s not even sure what he’s arguing for. “But I have to think about things or I’ll get carried away. Things will get out of hand if I do whatever want, whenever I want. I can’t just let…”

The First One surprises him with another kiss, but this time taking his mouth. “You will be by side, Charles. Now wake up, and prepare a place for us in the world.”

 

When Charles wakes up, he vaguely recalls being comforted by the great shadow. He sighs, feeling guilty about all his questioning and doubt. The First One would never hurt him, he thinks. He looks around to see he’s been moved to his room back in the Gray Palace.   He has no idea how much time has passed.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, absently thinking about the comfort of his bath ritual. He happens by the large mirror and is shock to see the glass breaking in one corner. He reaches out to touch it, and it freezes. Frost crawls up and shatters the mirror. The bathroom itself seems to melt away and Charles finds himself back in the grand theater. The large puppets dance on the stage and the seats are filled with shadows.

“I don’t even know where to start with you, sugar.”

Charles looks down to see Emma in her crystalline form, wrapped in metal piping. She doesn’t struggle in her seat but she looks up at him sadly.

“I told you it was time to remember, my little cuckoo.”

“Remember what,” he backs away from her but the shadows in the crowd turn to him. He moves closer to her, afraid what’s in the dark and she smiles at him.

“The little red hen, Charles. You have to remember your whole story. Before he takes it from you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes almost to the halfway mark.


	16. Scoped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

Hiding his [face ](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/124709162266/hiding-his-face-among-the-people-is-easy-erik)among the people is easy. Erik went unnoticed all throughout Utopia. Magda still hasn’t connected his face to his real name and the people pay no attention to the man with the red beard.

After the attack they retreat to Mama’s house in a stolen car. Charles has some kind of sign outside of it, declaring it will be made a landmark to the Gray Lady. Erik rips the sign down before opening the gate. He smiles as he stretches his powers around the familiar metal. He parks the car up the driveway and marches towards the house. The man doesn’t stop to see if his wife is behind him. Knowing her, she’s struggling to get all their things out the car. The former General leaves her behind and marches through the broken down house. He rebuilt most of it after the coup but never returned with Charles. It seems it was damaged again in the destruction from the telepath waking up his false god.

Erik climbs up the dusty staircase and goes back to what he thinks of as his own room. The room he shared with Charles during those happy months of easy domesticity. He looks at the unmade bed and sees the ghost of Charles lying there, sleeping like nothing has changed.

“Max!”

The vision vanishes and Erik rolls his eyes. Magda comes up toting two bags over her shoulder and drops them on the floor. She’s wearing a backpack with their supplies and toting the heavy gun bag like a baby. He starts to laugh at her efforts, but she tosses the bag near the bed.

“You could have helped me with some of this shit! You walked right pass me and the car! You fucking…”

Erik grabs her neck and pushes her out of the room. “Language,” he says as he stands in the doorway. “I didn’t ask you to get anything. I didn’t ask you to come up here. These are my rooms. You can find space elsewhere.”

Her mouth frowns up at him but she doesn’t argue.

Then, with smirk on his face, Erik lifts the bags from the floor with his powers and deposits them in the room. He watches her try to think of something to say before shoving her by the face and closing the door.

He sighs thinking of what he’s been reduced to. He watched on the news as that feathered minion carried away his favorite urchin. If he had known the false god meant to deprive him of his one relief, then he would have put up more of a fight. Or swapped Shiro for Magda.

Erik heads for the bathroom. There’s a hole in the roof and the tub looks rusty. Water stains on the floor hint at the collapse of the house’s plumbing. He feels through the house and easily repairs the damage. He waves a hand and the rust on the tub falls away. He runs a bath while checking under the sink. There he finds his old razor and a large box where Charles kept his things. Erik sinks to floor and puts the box in his lap.

Opening it he huffs out a laugh. The first thing he sees is the doctored photo of _that_ human woman. He delights in the hole in her neck for moment before he remembers Charles kept this handy to look at every day.   He crumples it one hand and throws it to the side.

There’s a small vintage hair brush Edie gave them. Silver and engraved little starlings, a few strands of brown hair still caught on the bristles. Erik lifts it to his face and inhales. He’s not sure but it may still smell like Charles. He puts it on the side of tub for safe keeping. He picks up a disposable razor, then a razor blade.   Odd, he thinks. Charles knew there wouldn’t be another can opener incident. Perhaps this was harmless. Then Erik smiles to himself. Knowing Charles, it was probably a plan B. There’s an old toothbrush. A half empty bottle of aftershave. A little tub of vanilla scented lotion. Concealer? Erik recalls one morning where Charles refused to go down with apparent marks high on his neck. He didn’t want to ‘flaunt’ them in front of Mama. Erik smiles. The little box carries the everyday smells that he associates with Charles.

Erik inhales sharply and reminds his body that he doesn’t shed tears lightly. Certainly not over the familiar scents his beloved left behind. He closes the box and puts it on the side of the tub. He changes his mind about the bath.

Getting up is less of a chore with his injuries healed, but he is getting older. His knee creaks as he stands at the sink. He splashes his face with lukewarm water and heads back to the bedroom.

He sits in the alcove Charles favored and rests his head on the cool glass. Does Charles remember this place with any fondness, he wonders. The younger man had adored Mama. That was apparent. His acting was saved for Erik and Shaw. But Erik doesn’t believe the telepath worked that garden and dusted the library to manipulate his mother. He was good boy, as Mama would say. He must have loved her. And with that, Erik had believed he’d seen an opening. One day, he always thought. Charles would look at Erik and see that he had all best of Edie Lehnsherr, only he was stronger, capable, commanding. Worthy to be by Charles’s side. He thought Charles would eventually look at him and love him too.

Instead he was shot in the gut and left bleeding. After being forced to cut off her head…

Erik folds over on himself, feeling a phantom pain in his middle. He straightens up long enough to talk himself down. Remind himself of his new mission.

Already he’s closer to Charles. They’re not separated by borders anymore. Charles is less than ten miles away. With the false god’s protection, he would never see Erik. No one in Utopia gives him a second glance. Whatever veil he’s wearing could easily get him into the government eyesore they call a Palace. He could find out where Charles sleeps.

The thought puts a smile on his face. He dozes off in the window seat and later wakes to find Magda making herself comfortable in the room.

She’s cleaning up and tucking things away, making the bed with new sheets. She doesn’t look at him as he stares at her.

She doesn’t see him before he launches himself at her and pins her to the bed.

“I told you go find another room!” He slaps her across the face before grabbing her hair and shaking her head. Perhaps he’ll shake some sense into the girl, he thinks. “Why are you defying me?!”

“Max, please!” She tries to pull away, “I didn’t do anything. I thought you were uncomfortable over there. You’re still in your suit! You should sleep in the bed.”

He sits up long enough to give her a breath of air. Her breathing calms, so he grabs her by the throat and shakes her again.

“MAX!”

“That,” he whispers in her ear, “Is not my name. It means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.”

“Max, please,” she cries. “I’m… pregnant.”

Erik lets go and stares down at her before laughing in her face. “Mazel tov!” He laughs harder and gets off the bed. He looks back at her puzzled face. God, he thinks. That just makes it funnier. He laughs until his sides hurt but he opens the door and bows as if she were a princess.

She gets up, trembling on unsteady legs. Holding her arms around her middle. When she reaches him, she raises her hands to his face, “Max. This doesn’t have to change anything. I can still help you and the cause. We can bring down the false god. We can save everyone. Together.” She smiles up at him and he smiles back. Though he supposes for different reasons.

The girl wipes away her tears and looks at him expectantly with big cow eyes. He can’t help laughing in her face again.

She backs away, “I mean it, Max. We can leave the baby with some family of mine. We can raise it together later when the work is done. I’m not leaving you.” She looks in his eyes and strokes back his hair.

Hatefully he bites hard on her wrist. She snatches away so he laughs again. It’s easy to shove the thin girl out the door, though this time, he thinks he does notice a little more weight on her hips. He looks into her eyes as he explains, “I’ll have to get old Worthington a card. Who knew he still had it in him.”

She gapes at him and shakes her head, “Don’t say that, Max. I’m with you! I’m yours! He’s too…” Her voice cracks as she shakes and trembles in the hallway. “He’s too old. It’s your baby. You can’t deny that!”

Erik merely smiles this time as he closes the door slowly. “Of course I can. I had a vasectomy ten years ago. It doesn’t just grow back, my love.” He laughs again and finally shuts the door.

She cries out in the hall way and that puts a bigger smile on his face. It’s like having Emma around when they were teenagers again. Young girls are so emotional and easy to rile.

The good laugh pulls him out of his morose mood. He settles on the bed she made and kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. A nap, he thinks, would do wonders. He checks the ring of metal she wears on her finger and finds her out in the car. He disables the engine in case she gets any ideas. Just to be sure.

 

The morning light surprises him and he has to squint as he sits up. Someone’s pulled up the curtains and let all the light in. He scowls thinking of Magda before he gets up and notices the light on in the next room. He groans as his thirty-seven year old bones protest sleeping in the suit all night. He walks towards the bathroom feeling every bit of his age.

There he finds Charles sitting on the edge of tub, looking at the worn photograph. His hair is wet and he’s wearing only a thin red shirt.

Erik starts to speak, but chokes on his own tongue.

Charles looks up, his eyes full of knowing and red lips pulled in a smug smile as he sits up. His neck is marked in dark red bruises. The shirt is only buttoned at the center, just above his navel. He stretches his back and pulls his arms up, showing off the naked skin from the waist down. There’s bite marks on his thighs and fingerprints on his hips. His naked cock lies half hard in his nestle of curls. Erik stops breathing from the sight of him, before he remembers.

Realization must be written on his face because the Not Charles laughs at him.

“Oh to wake up every morning with _that_ look on your face. We would love that.”

“Shut the hell up,” says Erik. He turns away but can’t keep his eyes off his beloved. _His_ Beloved, he thinks. Whoever had their hands on Charles is going to die. Erik is going relish taking their life with as much violence as possible.

The false god settles with his hands in Charles’s hair, scrubbing the thick, wet locks back. “We’re supposed to be in the shower. We have another few minutes if he doesn’t come right back.”

“Who!” Demands Erik. “Who the fuck would you let touch him like that!”

The man’s head tilts to side and he stares at Erik like he heard something ridiculous. “What right do I have to refuse? This is not my body. This is my Host. My little beauty attracts so much attention. Who am I tell him no. When he has such impulses and cravings… mmm.” He hums and lets his hands down, slowly dragging down his neck before placing them in his naked lap.   “I’ve advise him before to let the wild man go. He may be careful with the vessel,” he looks Erik in the eye. “And very satisfying. But hardly the appropriate image for a consort.”

Erik watches the man as he leans over to poke around in the box. The false god pulls out the hair brush and starts brushing Charles’s hair back. “No,” Erik objects. He reaches back and finds a towel. He holds it out meekly while the god looks at him. “His hair breaks when it when it’s wet. Dry it first.”

The god smiles at him slowly before accepting the towel. He quickly goes over his head before resuming the brush strokes. “As I was saying. The wild man is hardly an appropriate consort. I would prefer someone more sleek and gentle. Though my little Starlight shies away from the feminine touch now.” He glares at Erik, “You ruined that for him.”

Erik flinches at the accusation. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Charles is an upstanding, righteous bastard. He’s naïve and idealistic at the best of times. His only real vice is whoring.” Erik laughs as he looks away. “He’s insatiable, our Charles.”

“My Charles,” corrects the false god. “Is a man with a big heart. He gives and gives his love freely. But you’ve stolen his ability to love himself. To cherish the intimacy he once found so easily with strangers. Now I have to contend with the wild man and that deceitful angel.” He rolls his eyes. “Because you have broken his ability to really enjoy himself.”

Erik narrows his eyes, “He enjoyed himself with me. He pretended sometimes but I felt him when he came, I held him as he trembled.” He steps forward and looms over the body of his possessed love. “I was there, when you weren’t. We made love and he enjoyed every second of it.

The false god stops brushing to look up at Erik with wide eyes. He stands up and steps forward. He reaches out and captures Erik’s mouth in a deep kiss. Erik pulls away but the god ignores him and kisses him again. It goes on and on until Erik hears the water running. He turns around and finds Charles brushing his teeth. The image before him steps away and smirks before it vanishes.

The man at the sink spits before he sits up to wipe his mouth with a towel. “My apologies, my horseman. I thought you were going to be awhile.” He turns around and rests against the sink. “Our Charles certainly preferred you fucking the air than actually using his body. He is quite the actor, _our_ Charles.” He smirks and the look is all wrong on Charles’s face.

Erik strikes out but is held back by an unseen force. The false god steps forward, his hand clutching the air while all the air in Erik’s body comes choking out. He coughs as he’s pushed against the wall.

“I’m going to forgive your transgression, Black Horse. You haven’t been broken in yet. But this is your only warning. Don’t defy me when I can replace you so easily.” He lets go and steps back. “Perhaps the wild man would make a better Black Horse? And our Charles,” he says as bends over to pick up the hair brush, “Already thinks he’s a good ride.”

Erik is left in the empty bathroom with the echoes of Charles’s laugh bouncing on the tile.

He knocks over the box and breaks the mirror with his fist before putting his shoes and coat back on. He storms out of the room and finds Magda stands at foot of the stairway looking concerned for him.

“I thought I heard voices?”

He rolls his eyes before answering her, “Pack all this shit and put it in the car!”

He stomps down the stairs and stalks past her. She barely has time to get out of his way. “Where are you going? Why are we leaving?”

He stops at the doors, “I’m going for a walk. You are staying here. When I come back be ready to move on. Or you can stay here and give birth to Warren Worthington the fourth out in the garden!” He slams the door and ignores the sound of her crying again. He walks off to about halfway in the yard before he extends his hands and levitates over the walls. He can see the Palace in the distance and hovers over the shambles of the city until he gets close enough to walk.

The false god hasn’t said outright that he’s shielding Erik from view. So the man remains cautious about being seen in public. This used to be his own city. His name on the signs and his image engraved on a giant statue. He sees the foundation of his monument still stands but all that’s left of his figure is a bust lying face down in a weed covered park. He’s not happy about that.

Erik moves quickly to the Palace but stops just outside the large walls of the property.

There’s a procession of media filtering in the gates. People with cameras just outside their cars, reporters broadcasting in front of vans. Erik waits to take advantage of one them. His beard has grown out so he wonders if anyone would recognize him without the veil. Still, he thinks, it’s better to be wary.   He snatches the hat off a bystander as he walks towards the crowd. He keeps his head down and his collar up. He uses his powers to summon a spare camera from one of the cars and places it front of his face.

He starts snapping away, walking towards the gate.

He’s hyper aware of what appears to guards behind a kiosk checking ID cards just inside the gate. He keeps walking and taking pictures, hoping to be swept up with others.

It’s a shock when he almost bumps into a familiar, tall purple woman in uniform.

“You,” says Wyvern. She grabs his shoulder and points to his coat. Erik is about to throw the camera in her face and run for it but the woman merely rolls her eyes. “The press passes are not a joke. Wear it all times or you will be turned away.” She looks at him without really seeing, he realizes. She doesn’t look him in the eye or call him by name.

Erik lets the woman push him towards the Palace entrance. He keeps help smiling behind the camera lens. He takes photos all the while, deliriously happy to be so close Charles.

Soldiers, guards, police, and officials all mill around. There’s several desk in the big entrance hall, a sign indicating that ‘press should report to the Great Hall for the official statements of council’. Erik doesn’t give a damn about the council. He’s seen them on television.

Instead he uses his powers to seek out familiar metals in the palace. Nothing of his was carried over to this place. It’s close to where the Hellfire Club lies in ruins. There’s some recycled metal in here, but nothing he knows personally. Not until he feels the hairbrush. The silver in it sings out to him and Erik follows.

Then smile he wore as he first impulsively came into the building drops from his face.

He stops in an empty hall, several feet from where he feels the hair brush.

This is a trap, he thinks. The false god left a few bread crumbs and like a moron, a desperate, hungry moron, he followed. He starts to turn around when he feels the heat of hands upon the hair brush.

Charles, he thinks. Or if not Charles, the so-called First One.

Erik rallies all his discipline. He can control himself, he thinks. He can go back to that house and mousy human woman and wait. But the hands on hair brush stroke the handle. Fingers caress the engraved back. Erik stands still letting the feeling of warmth wash over him with his eyes closed.

He opens his eyes and unthinkingly turns toward the brush.

He scoffs at the unlocked doors and the lack of security. The room is an antechamber or den and looks well lived in. Then there’s one set of doors leading to what he presumes is the bedroom. He can tell they’re unlocked as well. He shudders when he opens the door easily and finds his beloved on the floor. The younger man is just outside the bathroom, still wearing that red shirt.

Erik closes and locks the doors behind him before he approaches. He leans down and nervously reaches out. Charles is sweating, breathing heavily while he’s unconscious. He looks like he’s having a nightmare. Erik strokes back his hair, not daring to really touch the man yet.

Charles stirs but only to cry out a little. He sobs and tears run down the side of his face.

Erik feels his body burning like it used to in the telepath’s presence. He hasn’t been so aroused in a long, long time he thinks. He licks his own lips before bending over to lay a kiss on Charles’s head.


	17. Contracts

The Astral Plane May 1967

 

It was the hairbrush, he thinks.

It looked so familiar, it threw him back to another time. Charles’s physical body fell to the ground and his consciousness was thrown out. He ran from his body. From thinking. From knowing.

 

_“Daddy!”_

_Charles sees himself as a child in the reflection of his father’s shiny copper bookends. He can’t remember ever being so small._

_“Daddy!” Says the little face again, “May I please use your desk?”_

_His father looks young, even with the gray in his hair. He smiles gently at Charles and sits back from the desk. “Sure you can, darling. Come on up here and sit on my lap. Do you need anything?”_

_Charles marvels at how chubby his hands are. They carry a composition book and several crayons. “I’m already Very Prepared._

_“Indeed you are.” His father gives him an indulgent look, “But you may also use my pen.”_

_“Wow,” says the little voice full of wonder. His father gives him his gold pen with an ‘X’ engraved on the handle. “Thank you Daddy. I have very Important Work. I have to write a book and make monies.”_

_Brian laughs and the adult trapped in the memory feels his heart catch on longing. Brian kisses his son on the head, “I think it’s better to write because you enjoy it. Not because you hope to profit from it later on.”_

_“Oh,” says the boy. “That’s not what mummy says.” He smiles when he hears his father laugh again. “Can you help me hold the pen and write the words?”_

_“Yes, I of course.”_

_“I’ll draw all the pictures! I have red and blue and green and black and… what’s this one called?”_

_“Gray.”_

_“I have gray too!”_

_“I see that, darling. Now what are we writing.”_

_“Um…” The little boy shoves his chubby thumb into mouth. Charles can’t remember the last time he sucked his thumb. It must have been before his father died. Thankfully he stopped before his permanent teeth came in._

_“Perhaps a bedtime story.”_

_“I’m not sleepy!”_

_“We’ll read it later when you are, Charles.” Brian looks happy to be spending time with Charles. This must be before the Mutant Rights rallies, he reasons. His father was so busy before he died that he barely noticed Charles. “What do you want to say in words?”_

_“Words. Words…. Hm.” The little hands open the notebook. “I like dogs!”_

_“Charles…”_

_“Can we have a dog?” Ah, but Charles has always liked sneaking in a request when thinks someone’s guard is down._

_“Mother says no. But do you want to write about dogs.”_

_Charles crosses his arms and he notes how round and pudgy his arms are. He must have been a fat baby. Lucas grew to be quite big after the escape, but slimmed back down by the time he started running. The comparison leaves an ache Charles’s chest. “No… I saw a chicken!”_

_“A chicken? Here?”_

_“Yes, I saw Nanny Cooke with a chicken and she gave it to Mr. Hawkins! It was outside eating in Mummy’s ‘For Show Not For Picking’ Flowers!”_

_Brian sighs and slumps in the chair, “That’s why we can’t have dog.” He raises an eyebrow and Charles can see himself in the man. “What happened to the chicken?”_

_“I don’t know. Mr. Hawkins says he’s sleeping.”_

_“He? Was it a rooster?”_

_“No, Daddy. It was a chicken.”_

 

It’s a bizarre turn in his memories, he thinks. Like a stop sign that keeps him from going further back. Charles opens his eyes and finds himself staring at Erik, a little in awe.

It’s not like the man is completely repulsive.

He’s tall and handsome. There are mornings where the man hovers over, framed in light like an angel. There are days he dresses like a movie star and his smirking profile is so easy on the eyes. He’s funny in his own psychotic way. He tries to make Charles smile. Charles closes his eyes, as pain flares up in his head.

The man is not a complete monster. He’s a living human being. Well, a mutant being. With thoughts and dreams. Charles has seen beautiful landscapes, the world not exactly covered in metal towers but embraced by it. In Erik’s mind the world could be so much more beautiful. There’s efficiency in his design, practical considerations that would make everyday life seem like science fiction. He calls it Utopia. But Charles can’t afford to think of that. He has to get out of Berlin. He has to get home to his wife and child. He has to escape…

Opening his eyes again he sees the man.   Handsome face, lit up with the early morning light. Charles starts to offer a smile but the man is smiling. His many, many teeth behind his red beard.

Red thinks Charles. It’s probably his favorite color. “MCR1,” starts Charles as Erik stares at him. “Is the gene responsible for red hair in people all over the globe. Brown skin or white skin, freckled or clear skin, mutant or human. It’s there just lurking in the darkness waiting to make you ginger.” He frowns at the red beard. Charles has said this before but it wasn’t…

A Beard?

Charles sits up, about to start screaming but the man covers his face with a long fingered hand. Charles panics trying to use his gifts. Are they really back or did he dream it. Is he still in Berlin? Is he still a captive?

Charles whines as Erik shushes him.

 _“I should have prepared for this. I should have brought something…”_ Charles hears the thoughts that Erik tries to hide, loud and clear in his head. He’s not dreaming. The monster has come to Utopia. Despite Charles’s warning. Despite the Great Patriarch.

The telepath bites down on the man’s palm. He wrestles his head free and screams, “No!” A kick from a strong leg, one without knee pain or weak from muscle lost puts Erik down.

The other man reaches into his coat pocket, but Charles hears his thoughts. He sees Erik stuffing a metal band in his coat days ago. The man weighs using the collar on Charles. _“It might not work on the both of them.”_

Charles refuses to allow himself be collared by the man who held him captive. For every moment of peace between them, every time they shared a smile there is at least a dozen acts violence. This man compromised his autonomy. Stole his family. Killed his wife. Charles wakes up from the dreamy haze that disabled him. He wakes up and strikes out.

Erik falls away with a bloody grin, “I see you’re still mad at me.”

Charles notices he’s almost naked. The last thing he remembers is standing in the shower. How did he get out and dressed in only a shirt and where did that brush come from? There’s too much going on to think of it. Did Erik drug him somehow? Daniel used to provide whatever agents Erik used on him. But Daniel is dead. Charles is sure of it.

Erik starts for his pocket again and Charles has to get back to the present. He tries to freeze Erik but his powers have no effect. Charles stares on with wide eyes as the man approaches him, collar out in his hand. He is in the Palace surrounded by guards. He is host to an omnipotent being. Surely someone can help him now.

Charles calls on the shadowy figure. _“How could this happen?!”_

_“Call the Angel. This one is shielded from us. He’s working with the Clan. They’ve altered him, my child.”_

Erik raises his hand and smirks as the collar rises. “I’ve repented for my sins, Charles. I’m completely healed now.”

Charles raises his own hand and concentrates to try and destroy the collar. His control of the stolen gift is not as strong as Erik’s innate ability. He fails to influence it and Erik revels in his victory. Charles starts to panic and finally calls on help. _“Logan, Warren… anyone! Help me, please! He’s here. He’s here!”_ Charles backs away, trying to get to the bathroom.

Erik raises a finger and shakes it at him. “Finding it hard to stop me, little mouse? Finding all the power in your head working against you? Where is your false god now?”

Charles refuses to curl up and cry, though he desperately wants to. _“Please help me, you promised.”_

_“You wished for me to stand aside. We can do anything together, child but you would give all that power away. Do you want me to fight this monster for you? Will you give us back our throne?”_

Charles shakes his head, “ _No we have to decentralize power. We are not the rulers of the world. We can’t be that!”_

Erik frowns at him, “Cat got your tongue? Is it really you in there or are you the other one? Are you fucking with me again, you imposter?”

_“They are all trying to put a wedge between us, my Starlight. Do you see the Clan now? Do you see what we must do?”_

Charles feels his body trembling with fear and exposure. He whimpers as he wraps his arms around himself, ashamed to be undressed near this man again. “ _Take me, then. Stop him. Please.”_

_“That will not be necessary.”_

Erik’s eyes twitch and he turns away from Charles with a distracted look. He stares at the bedroom door. “Walking metal?”

The doors crash open as Logan kicks them off the hinges. He doesn’t stop to ask questions. He merely unsheathes his claws and launches himself at Erik.

They both fall to ground but the madman rebounds from his initial shock. He manipulates Logan until he’s floating, limps outstretched near the ceiling. “You must be the wild man. The Wolverine. I laughed when Azazel told me you were captured by Stryker. It’s a shame he wasted all the pretty metal on your bones.”

Logan groans, “Chuck, I thought this fucker was dead!”

Charles reddens, embarrassed, “He makes coming back to life a habit.”

Erik turns back to smirk at him, “It helps that you spared me, my love. Thank you for that.”

“Shut up!” Shout Charles and Logan.

Erik face falls and he turns his attention back to Logan. “I can’t say I see the appeal.”

“My dick’s bigger!” Logan counters.

They both start insulting each other, but Charles hardly pays attention. He backs away to bathroom and finds his sleeping bottoms. Logan is distracting Erik while Charles summons more help. Warren and Lila are on the way. Charles sees the metal hairbrush and thinks of the can opener. He bends down to pick it up and Erik’s attention goes to it. Logan is moved to the doorway, blocking anyone else who might come in.

_“The Angel will apprehend him and we can question him about the Clan. After we remove the technology blocking our influence.”_

Charles nods, agreeing. _“Whatever it is Hank can find it.”_ He turns the brush over and stares at the engraving. _“I know this brush… En Sabah Nur, I know this. How did he get it in here?”_

_“I will take care this, child. This man will never hurt you again.”_

Charles feels the pressure in his head, The First One pushing him out of his own body. He lets go of what anchors him to the physical world.

 

“Unseated again, sugar?”

Charles looks around the theater, surprised to see it empty save for Emma’s chilling presence. “What’s happening here?”

“I tried to help give your memories back. He knows that. Do you think you’ll ever get that body back, now?”

“What are you talking about? What memories?”

“The ones you asked for. Everything I ever edited. Everything Daniel suppressed with hypnosis. You were very little when this all started, Charles. And the monster riding your brain has engineered all of this. He been looking for host strong enough to help free him from the Astral Plane since before you were born.

_Brian leans down to shake a tiny hand. Charles sees banner above his head that reads,_

**Psionic Conference 1939: Celebrate the mind**

_Charles walks through the scene, observing the memory from an outsider’s perspective. “Is this your memory?”_

_“Partially. I was only a baby then,” she says as she walks around her younger self. She reaches out to straighten a bow on the little girl’s head. “But I built this from what Essex and Daniel remembered. They were both here as Annaud hosted this event on behalf of Shaw’s goal. The Americans didn’t know about Vincent, but they were already looking for a telepath to deal with Hitler. Your father respectively declined.”_

_“Of course he did. He was a pacifist.” They walk around the room. His father talks to a man with white hair and another little girl, “Who’s this?”_

_“Winston and Adrienne Frost. My sister had just manifested. My father was looking for a tutor to help her control her ability. That’s how Essex found my family.”_

_Essex is there lurking around the corners of the room, staring at the two little girls. Charles feels disgusted with the sight, “And Daniel?” He looks around for the other man and finds him appearing to be a middle-aged man. He’s close to Shaw whispering in his ear while they focus on Brian._

_Brian mingles with the other mutants, proudly displaying his wallet pictures of Charles as a baby. Charles huffs out a laugh and looks to Emma. “I was a fat baby after all.”_

_She frowns at him, “Pay attention, Charles. Look. It was the demonstration that did us both in.”_

_Brian raises his fingers to temples, his wallet floats in the air. Shaw starts clapping from the other side of the room, “Bravo,” says the future dictator. “A telepath and with telekinetic abilities. That’s a very special gift.”_

_Brian blushes from the attention. Charles has always thought he favored his mother, but again he sees himself in his father. But the sight is disconcerting, “I never knew he could do that.” Charles looks at Emma expecting an explanation but she just points at the door._

_In walks a late comer. Jean-Jacques Annaud bows to Essex before walking in the room with a little yellow notebook. He stops when he gets to the two little girls. He smiles at them before making a note and moving on. He stops again when Brian tries levitating an empty glass but drops the thing. The old man bends over to survey the destruction. When he comes up to an embarrassed Brian he holds out his hand, “Accidents happen, Dr. Xavier. I’m sure our host here will forgive the misstep.”_

_Brian looks at the hand with a friendly smile, “What is your specialty, sir?” He shakes the man’s hand for only moment before going still and collapsing to the floor._

_Daniel, Shaw, and Essex all turn their attention to the old man. Annaud raises his hands, “Apologies. I couldn’t help but show off a little. I have the ability to manipulate minds in their sleep. And put one to sleep as well.” He smiles, “It comes in handy.” He waves the offending hand and the room of men and women all gathered laugh._

The room melts away and Charles is left in the theater with Emma. “Is that where this all started? My father dropped a glass?”

She appears more faded than the last time he saw her. “I’ve been trying to unlock everything we put away in your head, but there are new holes, leaks that let in shadows from the Astral Plane. I’m not the only ghost haunting you.”

“The boy… Angel. Why are they are focusing on me?”

“They’re drawn in from the The First One. He is the oldest and most powerful being in the Astral Plane. He’s the biggest source of power here, and they cling to him while he feeds off all of us.” She raises a faded hand, “I’m in a better position I suppose. I know better than to stand in his shadow. But his shadow falls over you now Charles. My memory won’t last here long.”

He looks sadly at her, “I’m sorry. I always planned to kill you in the end. I never thought Erik would do it.” He smiles at her, “Will you move on from this place? Is there a heaven?”

She scowls him, “How the hell should I know? This is like purgatory for the mind and memories of psychics and mutants whose memories have been stolen. You think I know what it’s like to not exist? If I did we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Charles looks at her apologetically, “Why are you helping me now. If being here is a risk to you, why are you helping me?”

She gives him a watery smile, “My little cuckoo.”

Charles feels himself being pulled away. The voice of The Great Patriarch calling for his attention. He lingers as Emma and the theater fades away.

 

He appears to be back in the desert surrounded by mist. He waves a hand in front of his face, “En Sabah Nur!” The mist clears up enough to make out a tent. Charles walks over and enters through the flap. On the floor sits the world’s first mutant.

A young warrior again, his legs crossed while he looks up at Charles. “Join me, my Starlight. I have important news to share.” He smiles and Charles tries not to flinch at the sight.

“Starlight, now? You’ve been full of endearments lately.”

“You are the light shining in the darkness,” he says holding his hand out, “Sit with me, child. We have too many secrets between us. We must trust each other to make a better world.”

“You mean I should believe you, when everything I care about is continually threatened? How did Erik get here? Why did you let him near me?” He doesn’t mean to sound so combative but he’s tired of feeling manipulated and let down.

“The clan…”

“You’ve said. But how am I supposed to believe you. You said they supported you once. Still, you asked me to order all those nations to hunt those you called descendants. I let my son watch as they turned over the hearts of your children. I kept your secret, but you still let him die.”

“They are powerful, Charles. You saw that when the girl attacked you. They are using the man’s technology to hide themselves. Their only purpose to extend their own unnatural lives. Do you want to be like Vincent? Trapped in a chamber as they suck you dry, draining my essence through your blood? Or will you help me, Charles. Stop them before they can use us again. The tribute must be extended until they are found.”

“No. We’ve already alienated the world. There must be something else.”

En Sabah Nur shifts from his own form to Erik’s. He leans away, careful not to touch Charles. “Then we will use this one and his resources. Would you allow me that?   If they’ve given him back his powers, they used what was left of blood. Let him lead us back to the strongest of them.” He shifts back and speaks in his own voice, “And then you can help me rise from this place.”

“Why would I want that? You seem to bring death with you everywhere you go. Even through me. Why would I want you to really be in the world?”

“Because we will be glorious together.” He smiles disarmingly for someone with sharp teeth. “You have to set aside your morality, Charles. Sacrifice is called for when…”

“When we take over the world,” finishes Charles. “Together, you and I sharing a single throne?”

The ancient one gives him a licentious smile, “You may sit in my lap.”

Charles lets out a laugh and moves closer. “Well that’s… that will take some getting used to.” He looks the Great Patriarch in the eye while reevaluating their relationship. “Can you give me some time to think about this? I have to be the one who deals with Erik. I will make an announcement about your tributes. I will hunt down your descendants. But you will give me time, won’t you. I need…” He looks licks his lips and looks away. “I need space to clear my head.”

En Sabah Nur reaches out and strokes his hair, before pulling him closer. They sit on the rug in the sand for another few moments before the Astral Plane falls away.

 

Charles wakes up in thrashing a bathtub with Logan hovering over him.

The man raises a hand, “Chuck! Calm down. I almost thought he was going drown you for a minute.”

Charles stands up and gets out of the naked, marching past Logan as the man follows him with a towel. He stops in the middle of bedroom, surveying the damage down to his bed and balcony. He ignores it for now. There’s more important things to worry about. “Is Erik secured?”

Logan wraps him up in a towel and tries to lead him to a chair. “Yeah. Oz knocked him out and Lila and I got that collar on him. Oz ordered him to be sent up to Hank to have his head unzipped.”

“I need to go see Hank.”

Logan sighs, “I don’t want you anywhere that fucking psychopath, Charles.”

“I don’t care about Erik, Logan.” He uses all his strength to block the Great Patriarch. He thinks about the way the Living God looked at him, “I need Hank to prepare me for surgery. Now.”

 


	18. Countermeasures

Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

Logan follows him, “Surgery? For the scratch on your head?”

Charles ignores him as he evades the other man.

“Where’s Erik?”

Charles has allowed Logan to wrap him in a bathrobe, but he walks the halls of the Palace barefoot. He raises a hand to his head, where the scabbing on his scalp itches. Logan pats his hand away, “Don’t pick at it. You’re lucky it’s not more than a scratch.”

Charles sighs, “You’d think.”

Tessa and Raven spot him and follow. “Charles,” says Raven. “Are you okay? We were coming to see you. Where are you going?”

Charles keeps moving. The tail behind him grows longer as Vincent and Darwin join them as well. Darwin runs ahead to face Charles, “You had me worried, Captain. Are you okay?”

Charles stops and his little train halts with him. He turns to everyone with his hands raised, “No one else ask me if I’m okay, okay?” They all nod so he continues. “You,” he points first to Vincent. “And Tessa. Go to the Great Hall and tell them to bring back the throne.” Tessa frowns but before she can argue he finishes. “We’re going to need it. Send word if you need me when it’s moved. Don’t let the press in the building. We’re cleaning house.”

He resumes his march towards Hank.

Everyone who’s trailing behind him starts talking over each other. He doesn’t answer them. Instead he concentrates on keeping his thoughts secret from En Sabah Nur.

By the time he reaches Hank in the science and medical labs, the pain in his head is buzzing from the repeated calling from The Great Patriarch. He makes a beeline for where he knows Hank stored Aliya’s mask. Hank has removed an interlocking metal circlet that was embedded in the mask. Charles takes it and puts it on his head. He promptly falls to the ground and the others panic.

“I’m alright. It’s okay… I’m fine.” He tries to sit up only for Logan to grab his shoulders and push him down again.

The larger man pins him in place, “That was scary fuck, Chuck. McCoy! Get your skinny ass out here!”

Hank appears and looks at where everyone is hovering over Charles on the floor. He holds a sandwich and a can of soda, appearing completely out of phase with the situation. He states as much when says, “I was on lunch.”

Raven rolls her eyes, “We can see that, Henry. Come help us find out what’s wrong with Charles. He just put this thing on his head. He’s talking crazy.”

Darwin stands up and scratches his head, “No he’s finally talking sense.”

Charles smiles up at his former second. “I hoped one of you would get it.” He holds out hand. “Help get this gorilla off me,” he indicates where Logan is still trying to keep him still.

Darwin smiles back slaps Logan on the back, “Move out the way Wolverine. Captain’s orders.”

Logan growls, low in throat like an animal. “Fine.” He relents clearly unhappy. “But isn’t that maniac still down here?”

Hank takes a bite out of his sandwich. “He’s through there. Warren helped me neutralize him with that collar. He’s on an IV drip to keep him sleeping until Havok can transport him to Fort Ironclad.”

Raven frowns, “That son a bitch. I can’t believe he’s alive in the first place.”

Charles clears his throat, “It’s my fault. Everything is my fault, but I’m going to rectify it now.”

Logan throws his hands to the side unsheathing his claws. “Fantastic. I’ll help.”

“No,” says Charles raising a hand, “Put those away. I need his inhibitors first.” He looks to Hank. “What did you do with the technology he’s using to block me and the Great Patriarch?”

The younger man chokes on his sandwich. Raven has to pat on the back until his throat clears. He sips from his soda can before answering Charles. “I destroyed it. It… ah. Didn’t have anything to track. It was just like the circlet, but smaller.”

Charles doesn’t need his telepathy to know his old friend is lying. Fine, he thinks. Cleaning house will start with this room. He looks to Logan. “I need you to stay by my side.”

Logan retracts his claws. “Anything, Chuck. You know that.”

“Good. Because I trust you. You helped my sister. You kept her safe when I couldn’t.”

Logan shrugs, “She did most of the rescuing. I just stood around looking pretty.”

Charles looks to Raven, “I need to know what you and Yuriko have been up to. You’ve been discreet but you’ve been to India and Japan several times without authorization.” He waves his fingers around his temples, “I’ve been keeping track of you when you’re supposed to be doing government work.”

She frowns, “Nothing just… we were looking into something.” She bites her lips and shuffles her feet. “We want to have a baby.”

“Ah,” says Hank. “You guys should have come to me!” Everyone stares at him and his face turns red, “Not that… I mean I could have helped with fertilizing an egg cell in a petri dish. Not to be a sperm donor or anything.” He clears his throat and looks away.

Charles sighs, “Stop talking Hank.”

Darwin claps Charles on the shoulder, “And what about the Great Patriarch? His last orders were to start calling for ‘tribute’ again. I’m not on board with that, Professor. None of us are.”

Charles narrows his eyes and looks at Hank. “Some of you are.” Outing his old friend as a traitor seems ill-timed just now. Instead he points the finger at the Great Patriarch’s more active agents. “I need to keep everything we say now, in this room. Warren is to be ejected from the council immediately. He and the Great Patriarch are working against decentralization. I strongly suspect they are the ones who killed N’Dare.”

Darwin puts his hand over his chest, “Finally. You had me and Alex looking all over the place. I knew that red-eyed parasite had something to do with it. I knew it in my gut, man.” He looks Charles in the eye. “I think we’ve all told you at some point that you’ve been handling something that’s way too big. We trust you Charles, but I’ve had a bad feeling about the Great Oz this whole time.”

Raven nods agreeing, “He changes you. I know he said he’d protect us, but Lucas.” Her voice breaks, “I was holding him, Charles. I’m so sorry.”

He pulls his sister in for a hug, “It wasn’t your fault.” He pulls away to wipe her eyes, “I’ve told you that before. Don’t you believe me?”

She shakes her head and buries her face in his neck and they sway together as she settles back down. He kisses her on the head when her breathing evens, “Hank.”

The younger man nearly drops his soda, “Yeah.”

Charles narrows his eyes, “Why is my son entombed in the Great Hall?”

Everyone looks at Hank and swallows nervously, “Warren suggested something regal for the little prince. The Great Patriarch said you weren’t ready to return and he liked the idea of you being able to see him. That’s how they buried kings and princes in the past.” He gives Charles a watery smile. “I thought it was comforting to have him still near.”

Charles wishes he could take the circlet off and read his friend. Find out why this is happening. “This is not a monarchy.” He turns to the others, “And we have to work together to ensure that power is transitioned peacefully back to the states.”

Darwin scrubs a hand across his face, “Alex says the general mood in the shelters is negative. People are sure you’re going for President for life.”

Raven nods agreeing, “The reporters think that too. Even with the elections being organized, they’re sure the Great Patriarch is waiting to tell everyone he’s changed his mind.”

Charles moves toward the doors Hank came through and Logan slams a hand in his chest. “No.”

Charles looks at the doorway, his face set with a determined look. “I have to speak to Erik. You can come with me, but I have to know how far this has gotten. Shiro, the boy we arrested for the assassination is one of his acolytes.”

Raven shoulders past them, “Let me talk to him.”

“No.” Charles pulls her back. “I don’t need him dead yet. I came down here first looking the inhibitors.”

Hank shuffles around, “Well you have the only one that works.”

Charles takes deep breath and turns his back on his friend. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to answer questions about the attack.   I want a statement from the boy about who gave him orders. Tessa will read him for the truth.

Darwin gestures at his head, “Maybe Tessa’s in on it with the Great Patriarch too.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I doubt that. She’s warned me before, but I’ve been too blind to really pay attention. I see now, Darwin. But I can fix this. I know can.”

He starts walking toward the door again but Hank stops him, “We can’t wake him yet. He’s deeply sedated.” He scratches at that the back of his neck, “But I’ll call you in couple of hours when it wears off. He’s harmless now with the collar on.”

Charles doubts that’s how the Great Patriarch wants the madman. “Fine,” he concedes. “Darwin will stay here and make sure Mr. Lehnsherr is properly guarded.”

Hank looks around nervously, “Well, Warren already said…”

“Warren is no longer trustworthy, Hank. You understand.” He looks his friend in the eye. The man swallows and nods meekly. Charles turns on his heel, “Logan, I’m going to go put some clothes on. We need to see to some things before Erik wakes up.”

Raven follows him out, “And what about me? Does this super-secret plan of yours have any work for me?”

Charles looks back Hank as they walk out the lab, “Watch him. Don’t let him out of your sight. Find out what he and Warren have really been up to around here. The day Lucas died, Cerebro disabled my powers. Find out why my old friend would do that to me.”

Raven salutes and her skin ripples, changing into her blonde form. “He’s always liked me better this way.” She smirks and goes back inside.

 

Charles and Logan walk back to their room in silence. Charles feels faint from having the great expanse of his abilities shuttered. He sits down on the chair and looks around the room. The doors of the balcony were blown off, the table and chairs are destroyed. The dressers and nightstands tipped over. And then there’s bed. It’s a pile of wood and cloth, almost artfully left in the center of the room. “What happened to my bed?”

Logan looks at it, as guilty as Charles has ever seen the man. He shrugs handing Charles a clean shirt and a pair of slacks. “I’ll build us a new one.”

Charles smiles up at him, “My poor darling.”

Logan walks away, to their shared closet. Mostly full of Charles’s suits. All of his own clothes are still in convenient duffle bag in the corner. He kneels down and fishes out a clean shirt for himself, “I’mma go wash up, Chuck. You get to wait for me in here. Don’t go all John Wayne looking for heads to bust. And I don’t want you anywhere that cape-wearing asshole.”

Charles doesn’t bother dressing, instead he gets up and drapes himself over Logan where the man is still kneeling. Logan keeps them both from tumbling over so Charles pushes until he takes the hint. They fall over and Logan just lays on the floor, obediently waiting for Charles to make another move.

“I don’t think there’s time for this, Chuck.” He says even spreads his own legs.

Charles laughs into his neck, before kissing the larger man behind the ear. “I suppose you’re right.”

He gets up and walks away with Logan turning around, still spread out on the floor. “That wasn’t a ‘no’, genius.”

Charles pretends to ignore him as he walks into the bathroom. At least nothing in here was damaged. He shucks off the bathrobe and starts a shower. He’s still clean from the bath, but shower sex sounds like a convenient way to work off his anxiety. He doesn’t want to think about his body’s response to knowing Erik is nearby. The problems he’s facing is compounded by deceit from the people he had faith in. He doesn’t want to the shadows of this past still touching him as well.

Hank all but confirmed his suspicions. He’s never been a good liar. And this raises so many questions. The Great Patriarch allowed this to happen, but for what purpose? Why did The Living God let Erik anywhere near Charles and then claim he couldn’t do anything?

Charles steps into the shower just as things get clearer in his mind. The Great Patriarch wants Charles to solely depend on him. The telepath has gotten stronger in the last year, but that’s not what the god from wants him. He wants Charles to be afraid. He wants Charles to need him. So he set this all up. And killed three enemies at the same time. Charles hopes it not the case. He hopes he’s missing something from the narrative. Perhaps Hank really did remove and destroy some inhibitors. Perhaps Shiro was working on his own. Perhaps ancient Egyptians consider consorts to be a platonic…

No, he reasons. It just his luck to wake up an apparently horny god. The Greeks and Romans weren’t so far off, he thinks.

Logan comes in the bathroom just as Charles thinks he’s almost figured things out. The older man strips down quickly and joins him. He pulls Charles close but simply holds him as they stand together.

Charles can easily admit to preferring Logan’s gentleness. Most days. But the fact that Erik is near makes his blood thump in his ears. He can feel echoes of every encounter tainting his preferences. The memory of the lies he told himself for over a year. _“I like this. This feels good.”_ He shudders as Logan puts his hands on him, noting the difference between them and the long fingers he’s used to.

The man gently rubs his shoulders and neck. His cock is half-hard and jutting out. He doesn’t make a move to bother Charles about it. Something in the younger man snaps. He turns on Logan and bites down hard on his lip. Grabbing a handful of hair, he’s confident the other man can hold him while he climbs up his body. “Don’t fuck around Logan.” He bites again and backs away to watch the wound heal.

Logan raises a brow, “Getting a little violent, Chuck.”

Charles yanks his hair, “I really hate it when it you call me that.”

The other man grins knocking their foreheads together. Still careful with the smaller man. He holds Charles up with one arm while slipping a thick finger into Charles’s hole. Gently of course.

It makes Charles see red behind eyelids, and he pulls the burly man’s hair again. “I’m not a child, Logan. I’m not a doll. You can use me.” He licks his own lips before giving the man a sloppy kiss. “You can do anything… at all. I want you to. Just this once really fuck me.   Like you don’t,” he breaks off and sobs a little. “Like you don’t give a damn. Fuck me like you really want me.”

Logan is still gentle, holding him up and letting the younger man rest his head on his shoulder. He pumps and scissors his fingers before turning them around and pressing Charles into the tile.

He doesn’t stop as he explains, “I’ll give you the long of short of why that’s not happening, Chuck. One. I like calling you Chuck. Your face gets all red and you really fuckin’ cute when you blush.”

Charles huffs out a weak laugh against his neck.

The man continues, “Two. I don’t think of you as child or doll or anything else. I told you before, that’s not my brand of kinky. Get your sister in here…”

“Stop talking.”

“Well you asked,” he grins.

Charles grunts as the larger man lines them together, the head of his cock just brushing the ring of muscle.

“And three.” Logan slides inside, pressing in deeply while Charles throws his head back. He takes advantage by licking the younger man’s throat. “I’ve got superhuman strength.”

Charles doesn’t hear him, concentrating on how he feels. He wants more than this but Logan doesn’t allow much room to move.

“Normal sex has never been an option for me,” explains the man while slowly pumping in and out. “And with my skeleton coated in an extra hundred pounds of metal, I have to be really, really careful. Especially with you wee little fair folk.” He grins after adopting a terrible Irish accent.

Charles already knows all this but still, he thinks. He feels like the other man is too gentle. Too caring. When he what he wants is to feel something. Especially now, when he has to face Erik later. He wants the madman to see him marked and bruised and thoroughly used.

He doesn’t say as much to Logan already knowing how he’d feel about that. “Thank you for your consideration. But I am not a leprechaun, Logan.” He tries to spur the man on with his heel, but Logan is strong enough to hold them for up for a long time. He barely moves with Charles squirming against him.

The man looks at him doubtfully, “I’m pretty sure I’ve found a pot gold or two laying around that old mansion.”

Charles erupts with laughter. He thinks it’s probably true, given his great-great grandmother’s habit of hiding money in the walls. “Okay. Fair enough. But,” he says looking the man in the eye. “I want you. Right now. Please just help me to stop thinking. Just give me five minutes of peace.” He whines and nuzzles his head in the crook of the man’s neck.

Charles is surprised that Logan pulls out. The other man lets his feet down and stands back, arms crossed over his hairy chest. “Five minutes?” He so affronted Charles can’t help laughing. “I’ll give you… you know what let’s settle this now.” He grabs his cock and Charles stands there, anticipating. “I wanna know something. My dick is bigger than that walking fridge magnet’s right?”

Charles then lets out light sounding laugh as he falls to his knees. He hums in appreciation before Logan’s cock in his hand. “No,” he says honestly. “But I rather have you here than anyone else.” He pumps the other man’s cock while reaching behind to finger himself. He hopes the man will shed his concerns and just fuck him already. Logan is usually oblivious to Charles’s self-flagellation but he stops Charles this time.

The man kneels down, “You get this little line in the middle of your forehead. Not the good thinking kind, either. Like you’re doing something you don’t want to do.”

Charles frowns at him, “I want to. I’m fine... let’s just get this over with.”

Logan looks angry for second before his face softens. Gentle, always gentle, thinks Charles. The larger man stands up and pulls Charles with him. “And you said we were partners. I only do happy sex, maybe angry and makeup sex, but this. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.” He says it evenly but the emotions on face say he clearly feels different. “Just tell me what you want, Charles.”

Charles blinks away a few tears. He leaves the shower and after a moment Logan follows him. He walks out to his study where the furniture hasn’t been smashed to pieces. Night and Day’s dog beds sti **l** l empty while a guard gets them use to the walls.

Logan doesn’t say anything, but quietly offers his support. He wraps Charles up in a towel and pulls the younger man into a hug.

Gentle, thinks Charles.

He hardly deserves it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 was down when I first tried to post this, and I forgot to go back and try again.


	19. Three Crayons

San Francisco, California August 1942

Charles grabs his favorite bear. It’s the exact right size for bedtime.

His Daddy has promised to read with him tonight before going back out for another rally. Their time in California has been dreadfully boring. Then, to make things worse, he’s caught a sniffle.

Daddy has been busy making the world free for mutants. It’s Very Important work, and Charles’s new west coast nanny, Ms. Selena, complimented him on being a very mature boy. He nodded along at the time, not entirely sure what ‘mature’ meant, but Ms. Selena explained that he was being very considerate of his Daddy and the all the hard work he did for the movement.

But Daddy has been late for bedtime almost every night since they arrived. There are things to keep him happy when Daddy is away. Charles likes seeing all the sunny places. The house Daddy bought especially for his work has a tree house that is fun to climb.

Charles is just thinking about what story he’d like to hear when Ms. Selena comes in. “Time for a bath, Charlie.” Charles doesn’t like her very much. She’s not soft and good at cuddles like Nanny Cooke. She’s more like Mummy. Skinny and tall, but with long black hair. Like a witch. She’s not very fun, but Daddy says Nanny Cooke couldn’t leave the mansion. So he had to hire someone out here. And Ms. Selena knocked on the door and got the job. But she won’t let Charles call her Nanny and that just doesn’t sit well with him, he supposes.

He shakes his head. “I want Daddy first.”

She pulls him away from his stack of books on the nightstand. “Honestly, Charles. You are six years old. Time to stop acting like a baby.”   She pulls him along to the bathroom. Charles hates when she does bedtime. He stops using his legs and goes floppy. Ms. Selena breathes out through her nose, almost whistling with anger. She picks Charles up and takes him to the tub. “You are getting so fat with all those sweets! And all the rest of your teeth are going to fall out from sugar. I’m starting you on a vitamin regimen.”

Charles doesn’t understand right away. She props him up on the sink counter and takes off his button down shirt. She pokes him in the belly with a pointy finger. “Ow,” says Charles. It didn’t tickle like it’s supposed to. He frowns up at her. “Mummy already makes me take Vitamin Iron and Vitamin Bee. I’m not fat, I’m… I’m… um,” he says, lost thinking of a good word.

She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the shoulder. Charles jumps away and the woman has the nerve to grab him by the wrist. “Hold still or this will hurt.”

Charles stares with wide eyes as she opens the medicine cabinet and pulls out a needle. It’s a big needle too. Charles despises needles. He tries to squirm away but she grabs hold of his hair. Charles stops struggling and cries, “Please, Nanny don’t!”

“Stop crying. It’s only a little injection.”

Charles may be young, but he’s not stupid. The needle is enormous. “I’m going to tell my Daddy you tried to stick me!”

The woman smirks, half her face pulling up in an ugly way. She quickly jabs Charles in the shoulder and weathers his screaming. “He already knows. It’s his treatment for your health. You better not bother him about it. He wants to know that you can be a big boy and take your medicine, Charles.”

Charles wipes away his tears, hiccupping while he cries. “I don’t like you!”

“Tough,” says the woman.

She pulls him down and strips him quickly. His bath is over with in the most boring fashion and he is sent back to his room with his bear and his books.

Ms. Selena walks to the doorway and smirks at him again, “You better go to bed before your father returns. I’d hate for him to catch you up so late.”

Charles is still crying, and now his nose is running too. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his cowboy pajamas. It’s not worth getting in trouble, he thinks. He rather go on to bed and talk to Daddy in the morning. If possible he’d like to see her Sacked. Mr. Hawkins said bad people are Sacked when they don’t they their jobs, and she was certainly not doing hers.

He rubs his face again as he settles himself and gets into bed.

 

The next day it happens again. And again. Ms. Selena sticks him a needle at breakfast, then before lunchtime.

Daddy is nowhere to be found.

Charles makes up his mind after he eats his dessert. He’s going to run away, he tells himself. He’ll write Daddy a letter, complaining of the unfair conditions. Like the factory people in the newspaper. Surely he has Rights as well.

He goes to his room and packs his getaway bag. His books of course. His spinning tops. His marbles, tin soldiers and… well, he thinks. He may need two getaway bags. It takes him until the clock chimes for two o’ clock, but he finally manages to pack the Essentials. But then he remembers he needs Provisions as well.

He sneaks as quietly as he can down to the kitchen. He knows Ms. Selena is hiding the good cookies and sweets up in the high cabinet. Charles plans to move a chair and climb up until he can reach them. But before reaching the kitchen he hears voices.

“That’s not fucking possible!”

A swear word! Charles plasters himself to wall, afraid he’s been caught.

“I’m telling you the little brat can already block me. My powers only worked on him the first night. He must be strong already, not even completely manifested. That idiot thinks the child is just an empath.”

Charles frowns and slides closer to the doorway. He wishes he was invisible, and hopes Ms. Selena doesn’t look for him now. There’s another, deeper voice in the kitchen. The tiny clank of tea cup and saucer. Who, he wonders is drinking tea with his Witch Nanny?

“How can you be so calm? Waiting for that delusional idiot and his concoction to work… the kid is too strong for something as stupid as this to work.”

“He used tissue samples,” says the man. For it has to be a man, reasons Charles. “Harvested from Subject A. It’s very potent chemistry we’re dealing with my dear. It will make the child open to suggestion for years.”

Charles wonders if they’re talking about him. And what exactly does any of this means. He risks looking around the doorway to see an old man at the table. The nerve, he thinks! The man is eating some of the cookies Charles was going to pack! That makes the boy’s blood boil. He has to carefully consider whether he should speak up or keep hiding. He would he hate to get a time-out for eavesdropping.

“Daniel has our young doctor’s ear now. Everything will move as planned. Tomorrow night we’ll… Ah I see what you mean about him being a naughty boy.”

Charles gasps and starts to run back to his room. Worst case, he thinks, he’ll get a time-out or another needle.

He stops when a puff of red and black appears in front of the stairway.

Charles gapes at the tall red man, “It’s you. From the hotel.” He remembers when he first caught his cold and a nice boy sat with him in the lobby a few days earlier. There was this tall man and another man. He suspects they were Republicans because they made Daddy really upset.

Ms. Selena and the old man come out of the kitchen. She takes him by the ear and yanks him, “I told you this was stupid. We can just take him to Nova Roma now and be done with this bullshit.”

The old man taps her on the forehead and she falls over.

“Ding, dong. The witch is dead.” Charles whispers as he looks over her, “Are you friends of Daddy? Why are you sneaking around my house? Why did you kill Ms. Selena? I really appreciate that.” He smiles up at the stranger who ate his cookies.

The red man laughs and pats Charles on the head, “This one is priceless.”

Charles looks at the old man, “Are you a nuclear scientist?”

The old man kneels down, slowly. So slowly Charles, feels like it takes a million years for them to see eye to eye. “Your father is more than a scientist, young Charles. And I had a feeling that you would be as well. Tell me, do you sometimes hear other people in your head?”

Charles looks up at the old man. “My ears works fine,” he says sensibly. He steps away, “But I think you should leave now. My Daddy will be home soon, I’m sure.”

The red man laughs again before walking over and pulling the old man up by the elbow. “I’m sure he will. He has to keep you out of trouble, little mouse.”

Charles frowns at the name, not liking it at all. “I’m hardly a rude-ant.”

The old man and red man laugh as they disappear in a puff of smoke.

That was odd, thinks Charles. But they were mutants and his father fights for mutants. Mutants are good people, he reminds himself. Like Daddy.

He leans over Ms. Selena on the floor, taking up her hand and letting it fall back on the carpet. Her chest moves in and out so she’s probably not dead. Oh well, thinks Charles. He knew it was longshot. Besides he’d hate to really see a dead body. And more importantly, Daddy would be very crossed.

Charles considers her still body for a moment before he thinks about making her more comfortable. He runs to the living and grabs an armful of pillows. He places one under Ms. Selena’s head, one under her feet and one under that hand he dropped. Just in case he hurt her.

He huffs at the woman on the floor, “Serves you right for sticking me.” He sticks his tongue out at her once, then again with his teeth closed. He grins down, marveling at how tongue must peek out of the space where his first tooth fell out.

After the novelty of that wears off, he walks away.

Now is the perfect time to collect the Provisions.

By the late afternoon, the sun is going down and Charles has successfully Ran Away. To the treehouse.

 

He missed his nap this afternoon, with all the excitement. So he reasons he should take one now. He has everything he needs. His treehouse is high up off the ground, almost as tall as his Daddy. He unpacked all of his things. Then line his guards up at the door so as to be Ready For Anything. Then threw his pillows in a corner to make a most comfortable bed. He was just lying down with teddy thinking about which book to read first. He had his Pooh books and his Rabbit books. But they were long and would better with Daddy doing the voices. He pulled out his book, which he and Daddy wrote together a long, long time ago. So long ago he couldn’t read or write yet. Back when he still had all his baby teeth.

Charles props himself up on his elbows and reads the cover first.

“A book told by Charles Francis Xavier, and written by Brian James Xavier. Illustrated by Charles Francis Xavier.”

He smiles at Daddy’s very neat handwriting, the way the X’s look very important. He tries to write like that himself, but Daddy says it takes practice. He flips to the first page, a picture he drew of Nanny Cooke’s chicken. Daddy’s writing is on the next page.

“There once was a red, red hen. Her name was Red Hen. She was a sleepy, sleepy hen. But no matter how much she tried, she could not go to sleep in her own bed.”

Daddy had explained how chickens worked. Boy chickens were roosters and girl chickens were hens. The chicken in their house that day was a hen. Charles wishes they could have kept her as pet but he suspects she was in the very important dinner they had that night. Charles yawns without covering his mouth. His Mummy isn’t here to tell him to be polite so he smiles to himself.

He jumps when there’s a knock on the side of the treehouse. Then two taps and another hard knock.

The secret password! “Daddy!”

Charles rushes over to the doorway and leaps out into his father’s arms. His Daddy laughs and kisses him on the head before throwing him way into the sky. Charles screams, but he’s not really afraid. He knows his Daddy is the strongest man alive and would never drop him.

“Daddy! You didn’t come home last night and that woman,” he starts but Daddy hushes him.

“Ms. Selena was looking all over for you. You had her very worried.” He gives Charles the serious father eyebrow frown and that makes the boy feel bad for leaving the Witch Nanny on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes before he remembers. “But she kept sticking me! With long sharp needles! I don’t need any more vitamins, Daddy.” He pouts and his father’s face, “Please don’t give me anymore.” He knows she said he’d be cross but sometimes Daddy gives in if Charles just makes his eyes round and sticks his lip out, like Mummy does.

Daddy’s frown only gets worse. He reaches into the treehouse and grabs teddy and the book. He looks around before telling Charles that they’ll come back for the rest of it later. Right now they have to talk to Ms. Selena. They find her in the living room with yet another old man. This one is balding with thick black glasses on his nose. Charles scratches his head, wondering why she knows so many old men.

Charles’s father walks right up to them and doesn’t let Charles down. He looks very cross and stares at Ms. Selena. “Why are you giving my son injections?”

She coughs a little and looks at the old man before answering. “It was just vitamins, Mr. Xavier. He’s been so sickly.”

The old man with the glasses stands up and offers his hand, “You must be little Charlie. I’m Dr. Reinhardt. But you can call me Uncle Danny.”

Charles leans away and buries his face in Daddy’s neck. He’s in no mood for company. He wanted to take a nap but Daddy jostles him until he looks up and takes the man’s hand. “Charles Xavier, sir. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He knows all the right words to say to new grownups. His Mummy would be proud, he thinks.

“Such a delightfully well-spoken young man. I can tell Sharon trained him up right. You probably had nothing to do with it, eh Bri?” He laughs and slaps Daddy on the shoulder. Charles assumes they must be old friends. Perhaps this man has nothing to do with Ms. Selena and the strangers from earlier.

Daddy smiles, but it’s a tight smile. He speaks just to Charles, “I’m going out later this evening, but Ms. Selena will watch over. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. There is a very important event I have to help organize. Do you think you’ll be alright?”

Charles nods bravely, “Of course, Daddy.”

He sets Charles down on the couch near Ms. Selena. She looks between him and his father. “I can’t believe you ratted me for trying to keep you from getting pneumonia.” Charles has feeling in his head, one that says her words are lying. She’s always lying. He tries to shake off the feeling and watches as Daddy and his new Uncle Danny walk upstairs. The old man carries a heavy looking bag and Charles wonders if he was there to give Charles a checkup for his sniffle. He cringes thinking there’ll be more needles in his future. But then notices his things are missing.

Daddy was still holding his teddy _and_ book. Charles jumps up from the sofa to go follow them.

“Charles!” Calls Ms. Selena but he ignores and goes to retrieve his things.

Daddy’s office door is closed and Charles has to tug and tug to pull it open.

Inside Daddy is on the floor and Uncle Danny is kneeling beside him with his doctor’s bag open. Charles cries out, “Daddy!” He runs over to the pair and kneels by his father, “What happened?”

The old man sighs, “Well this is most unexpected. I think he’s had a negative reaction to the first wave. But you… you feel alright don’t you?”

“What wave? Did Daddy go swimming?!” Charles starts to cry and shakes his father hoping to wake him up. His eyes aren’t closed and he stares up at the ceiling, but doesn’t move. Charles is sure he’ll be alright then, “Daddy! Get up!”

Uncle Danny stops him, “I’m afraid it’s no use Charles. He’s not going to wake up now.” He starts to stand up, leaving Daddy on the floor.

Charles yells at the stupid man, “You have to help him! You’re a doctor! Please!”

The old man lifts his bag and takes it to the desk. There he closes it with a snap and Charles feels his heart thumping harshly against his chest. He panics and shakes his father again.

“Charles, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice,” says the old man. Charles looks up in time to see Ms. Selena come in the room. She’s holding out another needle, and looks meanly between him and his father on the floor. The old man tells her to wait.

Charles is stuck between the two of them, afraid and angry. His daddy is hurt and they aren’t doing anything. “Go get a doctor!” He tells the woman, “A real one! This one is trying to hurt my Daddy!”

The woman smiles while looking over his head, “I’ll give him the last one and then you can start, Reinhardt.” Charles is so frighten he nearly wets himself. He starts crying while wishing he were invisible. The woman frowns and waves a hand through the air. “Where’d he go?”

Charles steps back but bumps into his father’s body on the ground. The old man grabs him the arm, “What did you just do to her?”

Charles doesn’t have time to replay as his sinister nanny sneaks up behind him and jabs him in the neck.

“Ow!” Charles cries and tries to pull away but the old man is stronger than him, and Ms. Selena ignores his tears. She picks him up and sits him up on the desk.

“I told you to stay still. Now, count backwards from one hundred.”

Charles shakes his head no and the old man moves her to the side, “Enough of that, woman. I have to be delicate with phase or won’t take. Now move aside while I see to him.” He bends over and looks Charles in the eyes, taking off his glasses as he holds the boy still.

Charles feels hot all over. His hands are sweaty and his head hurts. It’s an incredible pain starting from his neck and burning up to his skull. He feels like all his hair is going to fall out, or catch on fire or something. He tries reaching up to his head but the fake doctor grabs his hands.

“Look at me, Charles. Now.”

Charles probably has no choice, but he thinks he should fight anyway. He closes his eyes. And the man laughs at him. He tries to cover his ears but the man holds him down.

“Fine. Just listen. I’m your friend, Charles. Above all else, remember that. I’m your good friend, Daniel.”

Charles shakes his head again, keeping his eyes close. He stops because it makes him feel dizzy. He hopes it’s enough to make him get sick and throw up all over the man.

“You are Charles Francis Xavier. Your father was Brian Xavier. He was a scientist. He killed himself in here today. He was low level telepath. He fought for mutant rights. He was a very good father. He read to you every night.”

The words start running into each other. Charles feels them settle in his mind and take up space. He’s aware of the old man reaching behind him, Selena takes over holding his hands down. He tries to thrash in her arms but she slaps him across the face.

“Enough,” says the old man. “It’s time for a bedtime story.”

“I’m not sleepy,” lies Charles. He’s become very sleepy.   Never mind the nap he missed, his head feels heavier and heavier, despite the pain. He just wants to lie down and give up fighting.

The old man clears his throat, “Aw. This is cute. Did your papa write this for you?”

Charles frowns, but then his face goes slack. He can’t bother to keep his screwed eyes shut as he really starts to drift off.

The old man is very close, whispering in his ear. The story he’s read with his Daddy almost every night for such a long, long time. Charles feels a tear down his face, but he’s powerless to wipe it away.

“The poor sleepy Red Hen. Her hay was not good enough, her roost was not warm. She decided to leave and roost somewhere else. So she asked the other animals who lived on the farm if she could sleep in their beds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second earliest chapter I think...
> 
> So I might finally get around to the chronological order since I finally get it out of the way. Yay.


	20. Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

 Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

Erik had only a few moments to strategize after it became apparent the false god was going make an appearance. He assumed his grip on the hairy beast would be compromised and that he would be manhandled into a holding cell. The god had deliberately taunted him to bring him here, but he was certain he wouldn’t be killed in custody. In the seconds before he lost his powers he destroyed several components within the collar.

It worked brilliantly.

The god had thrown him around and Wolverine had tried to slice him to pieces. He ducked just in time for the slashing Neanderthal to land in the bed. Then he threw a sheet over the man’s head and watched him demolish the bed as he tried to get out. Erik started laugh but then the younger Warren broke in through the balcony.

By the time Wolverine was free, Erik was already being peacefully apprehended.

Warren the Third, had collared him and for the show of it struck him across the face. He passed out, and woke up here.

Somewhere in the Gray Palace, someone has gone to great lengths to recreate one of Shaw’s old labs. At least that’s how he feels about the glassed-in cell where he’s being kept. Warren and the false god escorted him to the main labs and handed him off to McCoy. Erik was hesitant to be left with a man. But McCoy merely sighed and showed him where to sit while he strapped Erik to an elaborate wheelchair.

 _“You will stay put until I have need of you again, Black Horse.”_ The face of the false god twists in a disfigured smile, _“Let my Pale Horse aid you when it is time to gather the others. Be quiet, and give nothing away.”_

Erik watched them leave and the skinny man who claimed to be Charles’s old dear friend was left to make him more comfortable. “I have to put you to sleep, and keep you that way for a few hours. They’re going to keep Charles from seeing you again before we take you to Ironclad with the others.”

Erik lets McCoy hook him up. The chair is leaned back enough for him to recline.

Erik is left alone with a dripping IV and his thoughts.

 

He opts to sleep and dreams about Charles.   About a morning where they woke up in a tangle. His head on Charles’s chest. The younger man’s fingers combing through this hair. It’s a slow, peaceful dream and it’s hard to come out of it. Erik is softly smiling to himself when he finally hears the door open.

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he wakes up. He expects McCoy or the Angel to be there, ready to help him escape. He’s a little surprised when a sharp slap across face wakes him up.

He opens his eyes to see Charles standing over him.

[Charles](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/125729527251/charles-is-dressed-in-a-suit-a-metal-circlet-now) is dressed in a suit, a metal circlet now crowning his head. Erik stares at him in awe of the younger man’s regal beauty, but that crown looks suspiciously like an inhibitor of his own design. The ones he left with Clan Akkaba.

“Fuck,” he says staring up at the man. He gets another slap for his trouble and someone in the doorway laughs. Charles backs away as the Wolverine enters and sets a table up between them. The man grins down at Erik with a cigar dangling in his lips. He then sets up a folding chair and Charles primly sits in it.

Erik licks the corner of mouth, tasting blood. He would laugh at this whole farce but the false god told him not to give anything away. He can play along until later, he thinks.

“Are you here to kill me or watch me suffer?” He asks with a faint smile on his face. “That’s a lovely suit. Brings out your eyes.” He stares pointedly at the circlet with a raised brow. He leans forward, with the little give the straps afford him.

Charles looks unfazed. “Shut up, Erik.” He turns to the others with him, “Thank you Logan and Darwin. I can handle this from here.”

“But Chuck,” grunts the hairy ape-man. Erik eyes the man, annoyed that his hard work has vanished. The Wolverine appears completely healed. He on the hand probably has a black eye. He certainly feels that way.

Charles calmly crosses his legs and sits with his hands in his lap. “That will be all Logan.” He presses. “I’ll call if I need you. Close the door, please.” He points at the glass behind him and the Wolverine finally relents following Darwin to just outside the cell to gawk at them from there.

Erik sits still, barely suppressing a smile. “I didn’t think you were allowed to see me.”

Charles frowns at him, “I’m practically king of the bloody world, Erik. I’ll do as I like.”

Erik’s face breaks into a grin, “I knew you could do great things. I knew it. Look at you, Charles.” He looks the man up down, “You are beautiful. And no one appreciates you more than I do. Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He teases. No matter what this man says, he knows Charles must love him back. Even if he doesn’t realize it. Charles keeps his eye trained on Erik, watching for any sign of escape. He’s helpless right now with that thing on his head. Erik wonders if it’s enough to keep the false god at bay as well. If it is, then the question of when he gets out is thrown in the bin. He now wonders what Charles is up to.

The younger man answers the question on his mind, “The Great Patriarch said you were blocking me. And this is something you designed,” he gestures to his own head. “I can tell. But there’s no proof. Nothing that links it back to you. The girl who was wearing it died on my walls.”

Erik tilts his head, “That is news to me Charles. I wasn’t aware of any deaths in the palace. Did you kill her?”

Charles clenches his jaw and looks away. Ah, thinks Erik. He’s guilty of something. “I did not kill her, but she… gave her life to protect whatever is behind this. Something very powerful is working against this regime.”

Erik stares at the circlet again and grins, “It’s probably all in your head.”

“No,” Charles says leaning forward. “This isn’t a joke or game. Someone is trying to kill me, Erik.”

Erik laughs outright, “Those big, blue eyes. Are you still trying to manipulate me, Charles? If only I could get my hands on you.” He laughs again knowing he could right now with just the barest nudge of his powers on the straps… “But it doesn’t matter. No, I should be apologizing to you, my little mouse. Everything I ever did to bring us closer has led to this moment. Now you are way over there.” He strains with his hands towards Charles.

“And I’m staying over here,” says Charles. “Until you tell me what I want to know.”

“Oh that’s just mean, Charles.” He pouts and looks out the glass at the Wolverine. He doesn’t think they can hear him but he taunts anyway. “Does he treat you this badly?” Erik turns back to Charles. “I bet you treat him horribly. Do you make him beg or do you pretend he’s me?” He watches as Charles’s face start to blush and pushes on. “You do, don’t you? I do. Pretend I’m with you, I mean.” He smiles.

Charles looks flustered in his seat, but he’s doing an admirable job of acting composed. “Enough, Erik. I’m not interested in drawing this out with insults and abuse. Tell me what I want to know now and you can be promised a quick and quiet death. I’ll even let you choose your demise. Just like Uncle Danny.”

Erik raises brow, “Uncle?” He can’t recall either of them ever calling him that.

Charles looks far away for moment before he returns with a sad look. He wipes his eyes and shakes his head before looking at Erik again. “Think of it, Erik. You spent years and years and manipulating and abusing me. You _stole_ from me. Even at my wedding…” He looks away before standing up. He moves to stand over Erik, confidant. “You owe me Erik. You owe me something after everything you took from me. Can’t you be a decent human being for real? Not just some Pygmalion of a good man. I use to imagine what life would be like if you were different. It got me through those dark days with you.”

“Dark days,” Erik scoffs. “What darkness? What stealing? I let you get away with murder. Literally. I let you do as you pleased, and the only thanks I got was plots and lies from you. Killing my mother.”

“You did that!” Charles moves away, backing to the door. “You killed poor Edie in your bloodlust. I wanted to save her!”

“Save her from what? Her husband, her own son?”

“Her monsters!” Charles screams. Darwin and Wolverine look more alert but Charles waves a hand at them, dismissing their worry. He paces the room, his hands crossed and face growing redder. “You let Shaw turn you into a monster. She knew that. She was afraid of you, Erik. She had every right to be.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “She was coward.” He looks away from Charles and doesn’t think of the gloating god or Emma and their ridiculous false memories. “And I didn’t want you to follow in her footsteps, Charles. She turned her back on the people that really loved her. She cowed, she scraped, she begged. I wanted you to be my equal. I gave you freedom and I put you a pedestal. I wanted to show you off to the world-“

“You raped me! In my sleep! In my bed, in your bed, in the shower, on the floor! You stole from me, Erik! You killed the woman I loved! Without you and your obsession, my family would be alive right now!” Charles cries out and goes to the glass. The Wolverine raises a hand they stand in front of each other, hands hovering near the glass.

Erik supposes that’s what support between man and pet must look like. It looks stupid to him and he says so. “And he’s your brawny shoulder to cry on now? That animal.”

Charles sniffles before looking back Erik, “This animal never took anything from me. I never had to put on an act for him. I’m not scared of him.”

Erik grins, “You weren’t scared of me either, remember? And now, after all that time denying it, it turns out you like cock.” He smirks, “Perhaps my Father was right. I should have given you more time to come around naturally. You’re not a tease any more are you darling? You’re the Rent Boy who be King.”

Charles slowly smiles at Erik. It’s not the response he expected from the man. Erik sees a glimmer of that being behind his eyes. Charles goes to the door and opens it, “I didn’t expect you to cooperate. You never really loved me.” He smiles thinly, “Don’t expect to see me again Erik. Not until you’re standing in front of a firing squad.”

Erik watches as the love of his life walks out the door. He crosses in front of the mirror and gestures for the Wolverine to follow him. The hairy man obeys but not before turning on Erik with a single blade splitting up through closed fist.

Erik would return the gesture, but… well he’s still pretending.

He’s left alone for some time, still strapped to the chair.

Erik doesn’t know what time it is but he assumes it’s been a couple of hours. Little Warren the third comes in with a bemused expression on his face. “I can see why you’d let Charles drive you to ruin. His ass is probably worth it.” The man shrugs, shifting his angel wings so he can fit into the doorway. There is no one else around. Not even the vigilant Captain Munoz. The man slinks over, “I have a gift for you.”

Erik watches the man pluck a feather from the top of his right wing, then one the edge of this left. He sits them down near the glass. “Tell me you didn’t come in here to molt,” says Erik a little disgusted with the display.

The man laughs, “That’s so funny. I’ve never heard that before.” He levels Erik with a look that says he has. “Besides this is how we get you out, Magneto.”

He lays the feathers near the glass and touches each of them in the center. Before Erik’s eyes, the feathers transmute into metal blades. Erik tries not to be impressed. Or jealous. “How did you do that?”

Warren grins broadly at him while ducking back out the doorway. “Just use them as you like. Leave the palace before sun up. Charles was going to come back down to see you in the morning.”

Its Erik turn to smile, “He said he wouldn’t see me again until my execution. Where is he?”

Warren shrugs leaving the way he came, “I hear he’s taking a break with his partner.” He smiles cruelly at Erik and waves goodbye before he leaves.

Erik sits in the chair and waits.

His Charles is here. Nearby and doing god knows what. Charles whoring himself to women is one thing, he thinks. It’s quite another for him so blatantly cheat on their bond. He was the first and should be Charles’s only. Escaping would be the practical thing to do. Finding out why the false god wants him here would be better. Perhaps he can make it back to Mama’s house without being noticed.

Charles thinks he’s in control because he’s surrounded by guards. He’s obviously unaware of the traitors in his house. He thinks he can trust them all. He’s left himself vulnerable. Erik knows there’s no camera in his improvised jail cell. He uses his powers to remover the collar, floating away from his neck as he repairs it. He shakes off the straps and stands up. It’s hard to summon the feathers. He can’t tell what kind of metal they are, being born from something organic. He shifts them into two knives and opens the door.

He doesn’t expect to find Captain Munoz on the floor, just outside the lab doors. The man is wearing one of the collars Essex had him fashion and he’s bleeding from a head wound. Then he finds McCoy in a similar state near an open window. There’s bloody smears around the window frame. This is a fine work, he thinks. He’s going to be framed for all of this. Erik has to shrug off feeling indignant about it. He’s grown used to being the bad guy by now.

He slips out the window, assuming it was how he was supposed to escape. There’s a large open yard in this part of palace. The remains of some building are several yards away.

He turns back to window, wondering if he should leave it open. There another bloody smear, but just above the window. He backs up and sees a good place to scale up to the roof. He looks across the buildings, this wing is only three stories high, but most of the palace is five or six stories high. There’s four watch towers, just inside the wall at every corner. He ducks down and runs across the roof. A set of bloody footprints leads to the bodies of a couple of guards. Wyvern and a woman named Lydia. He remembers having a good time with Wyvern but Lydia insisted she was only interested in Emma. So he forgive her once for almost biting his dick off. They were both terrible lays, he thinks. He passes them and continues over the rooftop.

He knows Charles’s room is near the center of the palace, just outside the Great Hall. The walls are suspiciously unguarded. No one looks at him from ramparts or sounds the alarm. No one comes after him from the lab. Poor Charles, he thinks. The man has no idea how exposed he is in this place. His guards made up of whores and traitors. Erik would have built him a fortress. His Berlin tower was defensible and perfectly suited to protect the telepath from inept security. But Charles has probably destroyed it, just like the Hellfire club. Charles rather live here, in a public headquarters surrounded by common rabble.

Erik rolls his eyes, just thinking of his pig-headed beloved. He runs across the roof and track Charles down. Feeling out for that hairbrush again, he finds it after jumping across roof after roof. He crosses over to the building in the center of the palace carefully. He can’t just go into the room. Not without knowing where Charles is inside. Blue and white curtains billow out from the balcony. One of the doors knocked out by Angel has fallen on the rails. Erik lets himself down quietly, hovering just over the balcony before crouching down behind the broken door. He can easily hear inside the room.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Erik’s eyes twitch and he looks through a hole in the door, unwilling to give up his cover.

_Thump, thump, thump._

A small couch has replaced the shattered bed. Charles sits in the lap of Wolverine, still wearing his dress shirt from earlier. His blue tie is wrapped around his wrists and the larger man fucks up into his half naked body. One of his big hands grips Charles by the hip, the other in his hair holding the crown in place. Charles lets the man throw him onto his back, spread his legs and drive into him again and again. All the while Charles is moaning with his mouth slack and his eyes closed. “Logan, oh god… Oh yes! Please, please. Harder, Logan. Oh god, yes!”

Erik has to clamp down on his impulse to pull every shred of metal from the hairy man’s body. His breathing quickens and he feels like his chest is caving in. The last time he felt this broken hearted he _killed_ Charles. But there’s no Daniel or a miracle cure to bring him back this time. No one to heal his broken neck. And a world without Charles Xavier, he thinks…

_Thump, thump, thump._

He grits his teeth as he sees the little couch they sit on continues to pound against the wall. Charles continues moan like a whore and the beastly little man continues fucking.

Charles’s bound hands work around the man’s neck. He pulls himself up and finally opens his eyes, “Come on, Logan. There, please… Yes!” He pants and gasps as he comes with the other man’s hand on his cock. Charles slumps forward while the man keeps moving his hips. Erik is too furious to hide himself properly when the younger man looks at him through the hole.

Erik is not expecting the smile on Charles’s face and feels frozen. Charles moans again, but more theatrically. He throws his head back and arches his back, letting Wolverine finish.

Erik is almost thankful when the man seizes up and finally comes. Leaving Charles a dripping mess as he gets up without ceremony, and walks into the bathroom. Charles stays put for a moment. His legs spread open and a dazed look on his face. The crown askew, but still on his head.

Charles reaches down to between his legs, idly cupping his balls and stroking his soft cock before he looks at the door again. He smiles, and the look is so dark and brazen Erik wonders if he’s really looking at the false god.

Logan walks back in with wet towel and throws it on the younger man’s chest. “That’s for calling me a porcupine!”

Charles laughs, his whole body shaking. Erik is sure he’s never seen the man so amused. And comfortable. And sated. The whole scene makes his teeth hurt.

Charles is smiling, his eyes bright. “Be a dear and go fetch my notes from the library?”

“The library?” The man tilts his head looking at the balcony and Erik ducks behind the door, not breathing.

“Yes,” continues Charles. “I have to get some work done tonight and thanks to you, I can’t walk straight.”

Erik almost knocks his head on the railing but holds himself still again. He can hear the Wolverine sniffing the air. “You smell that?”

Charles sighs, “We’ll shower later. I’ve at least another go in me.”

Wolverine laughs, “Alright then, Captain. I’ll hold you to that promise. I’ll get your shit, and then round two.”

“Work first!” Calls out Charles.

Erik waits a few breathes before checking again. When he looks through the hole his met with a bright blue eye. He falls back, hitting his head and fumbling behind the door as Charles laughs at him. He stands up awkwardly questioning everything he’s ever known. This moment shouldn’t exist, he thinks. Not after everything they’ve been through. “Are you real?” He asks. “Are you the imposter?”

Charles gives him that slow smile again, his eyes focused on Erik. “I knew you would come.” He rushes over, and pulls the Erik into a kiss. “I knew it.”

Erik is left feeling more confused, “Are you real!” He shakes the smaller man in his arms and Charles has the audacity to laugh.

“Of course I’m real. And I need you Erik.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, this was a frustrating chapter, the ending could have gone like three different ways. I'm so mad at them right now.


	21. The Mission

Gray City, Utopia May 1967

 

Erik looks confounded.

Good, thinks Charles. That’s very good.

If his calculations are correct it should take Logan another three minutes to walk to the private library down the hall. Then he’ll have another thirty minutes as the man realizes Charles meant the public library down the street. He can work with this. He’s already mostly naked, as Erik prefers him. He’s been thoroughly fucked, and he’s sure he makes quite a sight to the man.

Erik confirms this as he stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “What kind of game are you playing with me now, you imposter?”

A cold feeling sinks into Charles’s heart. Imposter? That’s like stamping ‘The Great Patriarch was here’ on his forehead. Charles is certain now that the Living God is responsible for all the discord. Erik breaking into the Gray Palace. Erik re-powered. Erik allowed to amass a following. He tries not to let the revelation shock him. Instead he does what comes naturally when dealing with Erik.

He wills himself to cry. “I need you Erik,” he says blinking up at the man. “I need your help. I don’t know what else to do. I’m in so deep now. Everything is out of control. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Erik frowns, “This is working then? The false god has no power over you?” He reaches out to the inhibitor but Charles snatches away.

“Don’t! I need it to keep him silent.” He whispers as if he were afraid of being caught, “He’s using my friends against me. I don’t know who to trust anymore. I’m so scared Erik. I’ve never been more scared.” He sobs and turns his back on the man. The key to manipulating Erik is still honesty. Letting the man see him vulnerable or wanting. Letting Erik think Charles is being genuine. For that to work, he always has to be honest. And honestly, he is terrified of the Great Patriarch right now.

Erik sighs, “I can never tell what’s real with you, Charles. What do you want from me that you’d go to so much trouble for that little display, hmm?” He looks angry, but Erik is being surprisingly disciplined. Charles is still shocked that Logan walked out of the room intact.

Charles sniffles and shakes head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t set anything up.” He says. He merely knew Erik would seek him tonight. He wondered if someone was crazy enough to release him. Only Erik would try to see him again before really leaving. The stupid man, he thinks. Still, Erik may serve a purpose now, and for that to work he needs to work on the man’s sympathy. What little of it there is, he amends. He focuses on making his eyes round and sticking out his lower lip, adding a little wobble for substance. Erik looks unimpressed, but Charles knows this man. He’s probably hardening in his pants right now.

“I’ve suspected someone close to me is working for the Great Patriarch. I think he lies to me. He lies about his goals and what he wants from me. He lies and he… he steals time from me. The person working with him doesn’t care about bettering the world or setting things right again. They want the Living God crowned King of the world.”

Erik reaches out again and this time Charles allows him to touch the metal circlet. He leans in with his head and Erik’s expression softens before he steels himself again. “Didn’t you just call yourself ‘king of the bloody world’?” He smirks, “Not happy to find you’re merely a puppet? My poor little mouse.” He leans forward but Charles evades him.

“I’m am mouse now,” he sobs. “I’m trapped in a maze. I don’t know which way to turn… But you.” He turns to Erik looks the man in the eye, “I know you would do anything to defend me. To keep me for yourself. If there’s anything I can count on, it’s your obsession.” He acts like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. Pretends he’s only just noticed his state of undress. He tries to close up his shirt and moves to his closet looking for something to put on.

Erik stays near balcony, smirking. “How stupid do you think I am?”

The answer if Charles voiced it, would be ‘very’.

“Do you think I’m going to believe any of this bullshit? Just because you flash me a little ass? I could have I torn that animal apart just now…”

Charles stands up, shrugging out of his shirt. “He’s not so bad. At least he listens to me.” He puts on a new pair of sweatpants and a one of Logan’s flannel shirts. Erik looks completely disgusted when he turns around. Charles can’t help laughing at the man. “He actually gives a damn about me. Not just possessing me like I were his prized doll.”

“I wanted you by my side,” snarls Erik. “I loved you, Charles. Despite everything you did, I still love you.”

Charles tries to calm himself. Hearing the man declare his love will always draw a violent reaction from him. He wants to take the chair and break it across Erik’s head. Instead he sits down. Focuses on his mission. “I need you,” he repeats. It is what Erik always wanted to hear. “I need you to tell me truth. Starting with your powers. How did you get them back?”

Erik extends his hand and Charles can feel the inhibitor slipping up his skull. He quickly raises his hands to hold the thing on. Erik starts grinning at him, “What if I told you, that parasite did this to me?”

Charles would believe that, but he doesn’t understand why. “What does he want from you? It was you who shot Stryker and Trask. You may as well admit it.” He sits up straighter, trying to speak with some authority. “And you had that poor child framed! I know he was with you in Kiev. Do any of your followers know your name, Erik? Does that poor girl?”

Erik grins, “It’s not so fun is it? Watching me pretend to settle down with some human woman. Now you see how I felt when you took that whore to Bastogne…”

“Shut up, Erik. This isn’t remotely the same. _I_ was not pretending. _I_ was happily married and didn’t even know you existed. You are using that poor girl…” He sighs. He’s getting off track. “What does the Great Patriarch want from you? Are there other’s here working for him? How did you escape from the labs?”

Erik turns away and looks at the sky. Stars are already twinkling and the sun hasn’t finished setting. “It was the Angel,” says the man carelessly. “He set me free. He has his hands on the collars I produced for his father.”

Charles stands up, “What!”

Erik smiles softly at him, “Didn’t know about that?”

Charles shakes his head, actually dumbfounded. “I can’t use my powers. But Tessa can. We can rebuild Cerebro and find out what’s going on.” He leads.

Erik grins, even laughs. “I wouldn’t trust that four-eyed traitor, Charles. He’s a lot like Daniel used to be.”

Charles drops his head in his hands. He feels trapped, he thinks. But this information has galvanized him with new purpose. He stands up and moves over to Erik, surprising the man with a kiss. “Thank you for this Erik. Now I need something from you.”

Erik licks his bottom lip. His eyes are glazed over with lust. He’s still easy to play, and Charles almost thinks it’s a shame he was already fucked this evening. He pushes away the thoughts Tessa would call ‘unhealthy’.

“When you escape the Palace, I want you to keep your distance. And if the forces working for En Sabah Nur call on you again, call my office here. Tell my assistant you have a message for me concerning the… theater tickets. We can…” He swallows a thick lump in his throat. His moral compass is going haywire and the little voice of his conscience is screaming in his ear. But he has to do this, he thinks. Take back control on every front of the war. And General Magneto will be his knight from now on. “We can arrange to meet somewhere then.”

Erik grabs Charles by the shoulders, his hands sliding up to his neck. Charles is trembling by the time the man’s long fingers have wrapped around his throat. Erik leans down to breathe in behind his ear. He mustn’t like what smells because he snatches away as if he were burnt. “That fucking animal…”

“Erik, please.” Charles blinks away fresh tears. This grip on his neck is hardly a kind reminder of how things ended before. “Let me go. You have to get out of here. Before they find you’ve escaped. Go on.”

Erik squeezes once before letting go. Charles watches as the man steps back to the balcony, then simply floats away.

 

A month later [Charles](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/126474769936/a-month-later-charles-is-telling-fresh-lies-to-the) is telling fresh lies to the press.

It’s not his favorite thing to do, but he’s comfortable with being charming. He deals with a small panel of reporters and journalists. Aaron Ibrahim, a brilliant young woman named Philippa Schuyler, Barbara Walters, and Peter Jennings. Aaron is the moderator of the little event. Charles has made sure to make him the authority, even when dealing when his more experienced colleagues. Having a former dissenter in hand may be advantageous, he thinks.

Barbara and Philippa seems hell bent on focusing on the atrocities committed by the former regimes. Young Philippa asks him if he’s aware that one of his councilmen is heir to a company that enslaves humans and mutants for labor. Barbara asks if the treaties Shaw made with the Soviet are still solvent. And if so, does he condone the State’s policy on nullifying the powers of mutant dissenters. Charles has to pull out every ounce of his charm to sway the women. Even then, he’s sure they’re planning to tear the palace apart for the truth. If he were the young man he used to be, he muses, he’s certain he would have tried to get one or both of them into bed. Ms. Philippa gives him a particularly unimpressed look, and there Charles is certain he would have failed. Whereas Barbara flirts back with him… He finds that a little unnerving actually. Like flirting with a tiger.

Ibrahim does an admirable job of keeping everyone in line. Even Charles. Charles isn’t sure about Mr. Jennings at first. He thinks the handsome young man is probably more concerned about his side part being neat. But in a surprising swing he asks about the tributes, despite there being a tight clause to not speak of them.

“I understand we aren’t to question the tributes, sir.” He starts, “But may I ask for the public’s peace of mind, what exactly did we deliver to you this last year. If it was nothing that would cause our nations grief, then why are you still hiding it, insisting we can’t talk about it even now?” He brazenly stares at Charles.

Someone behind the cameras panic and calls for them to cut the feed but Charles raises a hand, stilling everyone. He looks at the man earnestly and tells him, “The tributes were important to the Great Patriarch. To him, they were a sign of retribution from a world that had forgotten about honor. A assure you, they cost nothing from the people. And were a small price to pay from the governments responsible for genocide, mutant experimentation, and war mongering. I will not discuss it further as I’ve agreed to honor our allies.”

Jennings looks unsatisfied with the answer but Ibrahim steers the questions back to the elections. “Your sister has been hitting the campaign trail. Is this transition of power merely a show? Are you giving the crown to another Xavier?”

Charles laughs, “My sister has no desire to hold public office. She has always had a passion for organizing change. And little for the paperwork thereafter.”

That wins a laugh and some levity before Ms. Philippa interjects, “She’s been arrested seventeen times since 1960…”

The rest of the telecast goes well enough.

The topic of elections is kept in the forefront. Charles endorses several people, including two humans. That doesn’t stop NBC from airing footage from the time right after the Wakening. People milling around in terror and shock. Cities destroyed, families torn apart. They contrast it to the present day. Dissention in the former mutant states, threats of war from the Allied Forces of Freed Europe and North America. The American broadcasters refuse to call the Former Mutant States, Utopia.

Charles turns off his television and tries to get up from the little couch in his sitting room. Night and Day have decided to nest on his feet and lap. Night is sleeping, whimpering as she dreams in his lap. Day was watching TV, and now stares up Charles. As if to say, ‘human turn that box back on’. Charles would humor her, but he’s tired now. He’s had a long day. And tomorrow is going to be longer. He gets up carefully but the dogs still stir and follow him to his desk. There he eyes an envelope written in his new assistant’s hand. It only says, ‘Tickets, VIP’ and Charles dreads opening the thing.

He sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, almost missing the knock at the door. Hank and Dr. Stephen Strange come in without permission. Stephen is a handsome, older man. He carries himself with an air of mystery and everything he seems to do or say rankles Hank’s nerves.

Hank apologizes for their entry, “Sorry, Charles. He insisted on seeing you, now. I thought you were already in bed.”

Stephen ignores Hank as he walks straight up to Charles. He braces the younger man’s face with his hands, “I just want to be sure you are healing probably. It was an exhaustive surgery. I’m so glad we could minimalize its outward appearance.” He thumbs over Charles’s temples. The only indicators that he has surgery is the thin lines of scar tissue on top of old scars, all covered in hair.

“Thank you for not shaving my head. Hank is always trying to do that.” He smirks and his old friend blushes near the doorway.

“I am not always trying to shave your head. I merely wanted the connection…”

“No,” interrupts Stephen. “I think it would be better if we left the patient alone. He needs his rest.” He turns back to Charles. “But tomorrow, I want a full exam. Tessa is terribly worried about the long-term effects on a mutant wearing inhibitors. Especially when your gift has been expanded so much.”

Charles nods, “I’m fine. “Just make sure she and Vincent are okay. I’ll see you in the morning Doctor.” He leads the man to the door and shows them both out. Hank hangs behind, still wearing a betrayed look on his face.

“I could have handled the surgeries. As your chief medical officer,” he starts. Charles has heard this all month. He’s still handling Hank carefully, unsure if the man was merely manipulative by the Great Patriarch or really betraying Charles.

“As my friend,” he corrects. “There would have been a conflict of interest. Good night, Hank.” He closes the door and tries not to think of how unsettled he feels around Hank now.

Before he can get to his new bed, the doors slam open again. Night and Day rush past him to heel at Logan’s feet. They wait patiently as the man reaches into the pockets of his leather jacket. He presents them both with treats. They each snap up their biscuits from his hands before taking up the same position, their long tails thumping on the floor.

“Get lost, you spoiled brats. I’m ‘bout to do something freaky to your boss.”

The dogs whimper and Charles lets out a laugh, “Sometimes I think they understand you.”

Logan looks pointedly at the door, “If they understood they’d be out of here.”

The dogs whimper before scampering out the door. Night trots back to yap at Logan before turning her tail on him and leaving. Charles assumes they’ll find Lydia and spend the night learning how to maul reporters. This is an improvised family of dogs and wild men, he thinks with a smile. He wonders if Logan is doing it consciously.

Logan was not kidding about his intentions. He’s already undressing himself as walks toward Charles. The younger man raises a hand. “Wait. I still have some business to attend to…” He looks at the desk and the envelope. “I might be back late tonight.”

“Not with the day you’re having tomorrow.” He tosses his coat on the floor and pushes Charles back toward the bedroom. “Doc Weirdo prescribed a healthy amount of sleep before he checks you out. I’m here to make sure you’re good and loose,” he grins with all his teeth. “So to speak.”

Charles lets the man move him to the bed, only to duck away at the last second. The new bed is a simple king-sized bed with white sheets. He’s not sure why, but after an hour of playing cat and mouse they end up in the bed, wrapped around each other and sweaty. Charles tries to stifle his laughter afterwards, hiding his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong with you?” Logan grins down at him, “Excited about getting naked on a cold exam table. Hell we should try that sometime… once…   There was a good…”

Charles frowns and sits up, staring down at Logan. He can hear bits and pieces, but his senses are going haywire. It’s happened twice since he asked for the experimental implants. One moment Logan is looking up at with a frown, the next Charles is staring at a vague, gray impression. Then only the pillow. He shakes his head to try to clear it. Logan even shakes his shoulder. Charles finally explains, “It’s almost over I think. I think…” He can feel Logan nearby but he can’t see or hear him.

It’s the life he’ll have to settle for, he tells himself.

He simply can’t afford to let En Sabah Nur touch his mind again. Not until he knows for certain what’s going on.

By the time his vision clears and his ears start working again, he’s lying on his side, tucked under one of Logan’s heavy arms. He gets up and looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s already after two in the morning. And Erik is expecting him in less than twenty-four hours.

Charles feels sick just thinking about the message in the other room.

Logan hums behind him, throwing a leg over Charles. It makes Charles smile. The hairy leg, is scratchy and heavy with the extra metal behind his skin. Charles tries to turn around but doesn’t get very far. He closes his eyes and concentrates on his breathing.

 

By noon the next day he’s given a clean bill of health.

Stephen is still wary and Tessa thinks the reported side effects are too much. After he explained the Great Patriarch’s betrayal she and Vincent both agreed to block the powerful being as well. Their powers are more easily managed. Hank explained that she was an early test subject for Cerebro, back when the CIA let Stryker do anything to accomplish their goals. Her powers weren’t expanded, but her brain was used like computer when Hank first collected data on the way a telepath’s mind work. In the early days Hank had apologized for his role, but swore he had nothing to do her mutilation.

For now wearing the inhibitor when she sleeps is enough to keep her from slipping into the Astral Plane.

Vincent was altered after years of being drained for En Sabah Nur’s blood. Charles was careful to ask him to sacrifice his powers. The man’s reaction had been surprisingly agreeable. He has the experimental inhibitors, too. But he hasn’t experienced the same side effects as Charles.

Charles is alone, according to Stephen. The telepath helped draw up the plans for Erik’s devices from memory, but Hank and Stephen both agreed his new inhibitors would have to be far more powerful. Without Erik’s fine control of his ability, there’s no one to help get the scale of the technology right. So he has to deal with the feeling of two large flat plates of metal under his scalp.

He is in no hurry to see Erik again, completely vulnerable and now marked with so much metal.

After the exam he’s given new prescriptions for the pain and some kind of herbal mixture. Stephen hopes it’ll help with his episodes of sensory blackouts.

Logan is off doing security checks with the new guards at the wall. Darwin has retired Lila’s old crew, in a very respectful manner. They’re still looking into who helped Warren take down the Palace defenses. Besides the assassinations, and having Magneto on the loose, the administration of the Gray Palace is preparing for the elections. Nothing is expected of Charles in the next few days as candidates from every State in Utopia come forward to press for their campaigns. So Charles heads back to his room with everything the doctors gave him. Raven stops him ask about his security detail. He smiles at her and tells her an easy lie.

Charles looks at his new injection kit and laughs before backing it in an overnight bag.

He checks the table in the den ‘theater tickets’ and opens the envelope.

He sighs, thinking he’s never been fond of James Bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Benedict is playing Stephen Strange in the MCU, but in my head (thanks to tumblr lies) it’s always gonna be Oded Fehr. That fine, fine, fine mummy killing man.


	22. Live and Let Die

Gray City, Utopia June 1967

 

All packed, he pops into his office to let his new assistant, Mr. Reeves know he’ll be out for the day. The young man stammers before getting his agenda and clearing it with a single line through his appointments. He smiles back at Charles, obediently. Charles suddenly misses Angel Salvador more than he thought he would.

Convincing Darwin to let him leave with an overnight bag is harder than he thought it would be.

“I’ll be fine.   I just need a night away from all this. You and Raven have everything under control. I just need a little air. And some time to myself,” he pleads. It’s unfortunate for him Darwin’s gift makes him immune to pouty faces and eye-batting. Charles leans on his friend, hopefully appearing as exhausted as he feels. “Just one night, Armando.” He opens his jacket and reveals his gun and knife. “I’m not going unarmed. I’ll can take care of myself. I really do need a break. Please?”

Darwin merely rolls his eyes. “See this,” he holds up a hand rubs together his index finger and thumb. “The world’s smallest violin, playing _Hearts and Flowers_.”

Charles backs away and slaps the man on the chest, “Fuck off, Darwin! I’m being serious. I need some time to myself. I never get out of the Palace anymore. I’m going mad with this…” He gestures to his head, “And I just need to relax for a little while. Is that so much to ask?”

“Your psycho paramour is out on the town, remember? Warren is still acting like he didn’t put a fucking collar on my neck. Hank is… Hell I honestly don’t know what to do with him. How am I supposed to let you out of the gates with just a bag and a promise to bring me back popcorn?”

Charles gives up on being a sneaky bastard. He pulls Armando to the side and whispers in the man’s ears, “Look its important. I can’t give you the details right now, but I’m on a mission.” He pleads with his eyes again.

Darwin rolls his own eyes, “A mission to make it downtown?”

Charles feels a blush running up his neck and cheeks. He can’t say, ‘Erik Lehnsherr is working for me as a spy’. That would get him tied up in his room. And not in the good way. Instead he looks around, “I’m meeting with someone who might have more information about who killed N’Dare. I have a plan all laid out. But it won’t work if I walk into the hotel and I have a team of bodyguards tailing me. I have to be inconspicuous, Armando!”

Darwin leans down to butt his head gently against Charles’s own. It gives him pause enough to stop lying and pay attention to his friend. “Charles. You are not in your right mind. I know you’ve been through a lot, but giving yourself a mission and field work is not… Charles you’re not a soldier anymore.” He sighs and wraps his arms around Charles, pulling the smaller man close. “And I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger. I dropped the ball last month when that magnetized prick escaped. If anything happens to you, it’s my fault.”

Charles would rather not cry. He’s trying to be an active agent, after all. Men on missions don’t cry and sob on the shoulders of their friends. He sniffles a little and wipes his eyes before looking up at Darwin. “It wasn’t your fault. I need this information before we can arrest Warren properly. Then there will be a trial for him and the other conspirators. But I need this evidence. And I’m the only one who can get it. Just trust me, Armando.”

Darwin shakes his head, and gives Charles a squeeze before kissing him on the head. “You’re so fucking nuts, Captain. Remember that time you stuck a pickle up your ass?” He laughs, not knowing the truth of that story. So Charles only smiles back at him. Darwin sighs, “Don’t blame me if this little plan of yours gets FUBAR.”

Charles squeezes him back and someone in main foyer whistles and cat calls, “Get a room!”

Charles feels another blush on his face as he backs away. “Tell Logan I’ll see him in the morning. He’s not to track me down or anything.”

Darwin scratches his chin as he looks thoughtfully at the front doors. “Nah…. I think I’ll tell him, you have 24 hours to do what you think you have to do. If you’re not back in the council room by this time tomorrow, I’m sending Logan, the dogs, _and_ Havok after you.” He stands to attention and snaps off a salute. “Permission to abscond, granted. Captain Xavier.”

Charles mimics him and salutes as well. “Thank you, Captain Munoz.” He turns on his heel and marches out of the Palace.

Once outside the doors, Charles walks briskly to the gates. Lydia and Wyvern run up to him. “Sir what are you doing?” They were retained as assets despite Erik’s escape. Though, their duties have been scaled back. And only Darwin’s soldiers man the walls now.

Charles gives them both a beaming smile, while patting his bag. “I’m just going for a walk up to the public library. I owe Mr. Conner many, many overdue books. I’ll be back in a little while. Darwin is sending a car for me later.”

They each look a little worried, but Charles can still count on a soldier’s need to please a superior officer. They let him pass without calling for a guard, but he hears Lydia radioing the wall. She asks someone to keep an eye on the Venerable Host as he walks up to the library. Charles looks up and sees a shadowy figure disappear. Great he thinks. One of the teleporters is going to tail him. He can’t tell them to break protocol now, it would look suspicious. All he can do is hope that Darwin will keep this quiet.

He makes it to the library after a ten minute walk and goes inside to call a cab.

Without his powers it’s nearly impossible to spot the teleporter. He suspects it’s a woman named Veil. She has a talent for staying out of sight.

Still he hopes she leaves him alone when he gets in the cab. 

His ride comes and he hurries to it. When Erik called his office yesterday, he suggested they really meet in a movie theater. Charles went along with it to get off the phone. The tickets were sent to the office by messenger and he had Mr. Reeves reserve him a room in the new Hilton.

He tries to relax in the seat. He plans to go the hotel first and check in and set up. He packed one of Hank’s metal detectors, knowing now that Erik has a history of spying on him with hidden cameras. He’ll have time to sweep his room before getting to the theater and making sure he can’t be kidnapped in the dark. He wouldn’t put it pass Erik to try.

Everything goes according to plan after he gets to the hotel. He finds no cameras or microphones. He changes and showers without incident. He makes it to the movies, dressed like he was going to the [premiere](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/126847217231/everything-goes-according-to-plan-after-he-gets-to). James Bond is one of Erik’s favorites. He feels a little like James Bond, he thinks. If everything goes well, he’ll have the information he needs. And for his own peace mind, he is seriously thinking about killing Erik tonight.

He sets up his room for just that. Ceramic knife under the pillow. A length of rope in the bathroom. He thought it about all night, and decided that strangling Erik holds a certain appeal. He pockets an army issued garrote and the tickets and calls another cab.

Erik would know better than to meet out front, he hopes. He gets inside and scowls at the marquee. “You Only live Twice,” says the ticket girl, “It’s so good! There’s ninjas and everything!”

Charles frowns at the child just as she recognizes him. He raises a finger to his lips, “Shh.” He winks before he walks away, “I’d hate to miss the ninjas and everything.” He walks away but he can tell she’s swooning, even without his powers. He mentally pats himself on the back. At least teenaged girls still find him attractive. He’s been swing and miss with women lately. He’s started to think Erik left some kind of mark on him that makes women more wary of him. Maybe they know what he’s done just by looking at him.

Just thinking of that makes his stomach turn but he has to focus on his mission. Charles has never been here. This theater has string of private balcony’s lining the back wall. His reserved seats are just to the right of the projector. The dark space puts him on guard. He fingers the line of rope and wooden handles in his pocket. His hands shake, but he sits down anyway.

Erik takes his sweet time arriving. He comes in during the previews and smiles down at Charles as the theme music starts. He’s dressed casually in a jeans and t-shirt. A hat sitting askew on his head. He’s actually carrying little tray of popcorn and soda. He offers a bag and cup to Charles.

“No thank you, Erik. I rather not be drugged and raped tonight.” He smiles tightly, “We can make this quick. Tell me something valuable and I can just leave you here to watch Sean Connery fuck his way through Japan.”

Erik raises a brow, “That’s a bit salty, coming from the man who fucked his way through three continents.”

“Shut up, Erik.” Charles feels uncomfortable with their banter. The screen is an explosion of color and noise as Nancy Sinatra wails on about living once for yourself and once for your dreams. Charles muses, he’s dream life was over so quickly, all thanks to this man.

Erik shrugs as settles in his seat. There’s a little table for his tray and a convenient little trash bin. Erik tosses his ticket stubs before turning to Charles. “I’m glad you came all dressed up. It’s a little warm for a suit though. Take off your jacket…” He smiles before reaching over.

Charles tries not to flinch, imagining the helmet Erik’s hand. “Stop. Just tell me what’s happened. Did they contact you again? Who’s giving the orders for the Great Patriarch now?”

Erik stretches out his long legs, “Straight to business, Charles? Can’t we just enjoy ourselves for a couple of hours?”

Charles kicks the legs out from the table, spilling all of Erik’s things, “I’m not playing with you, Erik. You’ve put yourself on my payroll. That’s the only reason you’re still alive. I can have you killed at any moment.”

Erik doesn’t even look at him as the film starts properly. He grins, “So you say, Charles. Still I’m alive. And suffering too. Have you ever dealt with a pregnant woman on the run? Terribly annoying. What is the purpose of cravings anyway? To make sure a father can provide,” he looks at Charles for a reaction.

Charles feels something in his chest clamp up, “That poor girl. You fucking monster.”

Erik laughs, “Oh it’s not mine. Still, she’s being such a cow about it. How about you, Charles? How have you been this last month?” He reaches down to tidy the mess, “A little civility doesn’t hurt.”

Charles breathes through his nose. He should have known it be impossible to just bully Erik. Fine, he thinks. He can still play along. “Civility never suited you, Erik. Why can’t you just cooperate? I told you my life was in danger. If you loved me at all you’d give a damn.” He tries playing on the man’s obsession.

Erik gives him a look and he almost feels embarrassed for himself. “You know how I feel about you.” He raises a hand to his own temples, “You know very well. And I know you are a manipulative little schemer. You don’t think you love me back because you’re just being contrary, Charles. But I know you do.” He smirks before turning back to the screen. “We’re going to discuss the terms of this arrangement. I will feed you information for your regime to act on, and help you to stay safe. You will stop treating me like I’m the boogey man. Take my name off the most wanted list. I’m tired of hiding Charles. Offer me pardon.”

“The fuck!” Charles sits up even straighter, “You have got to be joking! You are a war criminal! You set up Italy to fall just so you start a coup against Shaw! You killed thousands of innocent men, women and children in those camps. I have to live in the shadow of all the evil you and your Father committed. I have to answer to it. I will not pardon you of the crimes you committed.”

Erik sneers, “I wanted to build a better world, Charles. You of all people should know that it’s worth a few innocent lives to change the world.” He grins as he sinks into his seat, spreading his legs. He looks ready to watch the whole movie, despite losing his snacks. “You set the whole world on fire overnight, Charles. You’re in no position to lecture me. I’ve lived among the people you hurt.”

Charles grimaces and turns away, he slips a hand in his pocket. His thumb rubs across one of the handles. “I’m don’t want to talk politics with you. Just tell me who’s giving orders.”

Erik, the evil, brazen bastard that he is, reaches over and puts a hand on Charles’s knee. “Perhaps we can negotiate for something lighter then? Something we can be enjoy?” He mouth curls upwards slowly in the familiar smile. He even reaches over to bop Charles on the nose.

Charles hardly registers himself moving, getting up in flash and grabbing the man by throat. Before he can punch Erik in his smug face he feels like his skull is trying to tear itself apart. Charles falls to floor with his hands on his head. Somewhere below them he hears people hushing them.

Erik crosses his legs and wags a finger at Charles, “No, no, no, little mouse. No fighting up here. I think you should be more amendable with that lovely metal grafted to your skull. It feels…” He looks closely at Charles as if can see the metal beneath the skin and hair, “Inelegant. I would have made you something more discreet. That’s has to hurt terribly. But,” he says uncrossing his legs, “We can discuss me making you something else. Come here and sit in my lap Charles. Like old times.”

Charles whimpers, the pain flaring up the longer he stays on the filthy floor. He finally relents and gets up.

Erik stops him with a raised hand. “Take off that jacket. And that tie. I want you to be comfortable.” He smiles as Charles moves behind their chairs. Without his suit jacket, his holsters are visible. Erik watches him remove his gun and knife. He unstraps the holster and sets the thing down in his vacant seat. Erik summons the blade over to himself and floats above his hand, “That’s better. Now sit.”

Charles does as he was told. Erik must think the telepath has been probably chastised. He grabs Charles by the waist and helps the younger man to settle in his lap. His erection as obvious as ever. Charles looks to his jacket, “I want a cigarrete.”

Erik huffs out as laugh as tilts his head up to mouth at Charles’s neck. “You don’t smoke, Charles.”

“I do now,” bluffs Charles. “I do all sorts of things.” He rolls his head until his mouth just over Erik. “I have a very dedicated teacher. Do you smell him on me today?”

Erik frowns, “No cigarettes. Or cigars. They’re bad for your health, Charles.” He licks his way into Charles’s mouth. His hands pull up Charles’s shirt.

Charles feels like a blackout is about to happen. He can’t wait until his senses are overwhelmed. He has to act now, he thinks. Erik is trying to unzip his pants but Charles gets up on his knees and leans over, “Really I would like that smoke, now. You can fuck me later.”

Erik wrenches him back by the hair, “Stop. Behave yourself, Charles.”

Charles whimpers, putting his hand behind his back. “Okay. Just be quick about it. I have to be home before Logan knows I’m missing.”

Erik strokes his hair with one hand while using the other pull the telepath’s pants down, “You and I both know you had no plans to go home tonight. You wanted to see me. You want this.” He bites down on Charles’s chin, “You want what we had as much I do. Admit it, Charles.”

Charles mewls and lets Erik paw and bite at him. The little alcove is too dark for Erik to see the weapon. Charles quickly puts both hands over Erik’s head, resting his arms on the back of the chair. “Don’t make me regret this Erik. Tell me what I want to know first.”

Erik smiles while moving on to Charles’s shirt. He unbuttoning it from the bottom, spreading it out while his hands stroke Charles’s hips and sides. “Fine. I’ll tell one fact for every time I come.”

“No,” Charles adjusts himself, “Every article of clothing. And I’m already half undone. Now spill.”

Erik laughs slipping a hand up Charles’s shirt to pinch his nipples. He leans forward to bite the nub through the shirt before he continues to unbutton him. “Okay. I’ll give you half a fact.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Names, Erik. I’m already getting bored.”

Erik slaps him on the thigh, “You’re just trying to make me jealous. But can feel you, Charles. Your heart is pounding. You can hardly can catch your breath. Does that animal stir your blood like I do? Can anyone ever really satisfy you like I did?” He pulls Charles forward and starts sucking a bruise into his neck.

Charles squirms adjusting his hands, making sure there’s no knots or tangles in the cord. “A name Erik. A name and you can have me right here on this filthy floor. Then back to my hotel room. And wherever else we meet from now on.”

Erik brightens at the possibility. “More little dates in darkened corners,” he nips at Charles neck before reaching for his pants. “Fine. Unzip me.”

Charles hesitates before getting a better grip on his handles. He crosses his hands behind Erik’s neck, making a loop. “Unzip yourself. After you give me that name.”

Erik raises a brow, then laughs grabs Charles by the middle, pulling the younger man up against his chest, “My little mouse. I can play whatever game you want.” He ducks his head to nuzzle his face in Charles’s shirt. He words are muffled at first but he pulls away to repeat himself. “Ozymandias, Margaret Slade, Selene Gallio.” He presses his face back in Charles chest, nipping and tugging at a nipple.

Charles’s body has stirred and he almost misses his chance to act. He visions starts blacking out, Erik is fading shadow. He shakes his head before moving quickly. Bringing his hands up and forward and tying a knot around Erik’s neck.

To say Erik is surprised is an understatement. He pulls until the man’s neck starts bleed. The knife that was floating nearby sinks to the floor. Charles feels a pounding in his head for a second but it fades with the light in Erik’s eyes.

He’s sure Erik isn’t getting back up.

He hurries off the man’s lap to fix his clothes. He mind is working past old blocks. “Selene Gallio,” he says to himself. He’s never heard of the others but he knows her. Emma gave him back the memories. Selene Gallio helped to kill his father. Selene Gallio is Shaw’s former lover. She was believed to be dead. At least Erik and Emma always thought she was dead. He buttons his shirt and considers the man slumping in front of him. Would Erik lie and give him false names?

Charles grabs his suit jacket and winds the garrote back up. He frowns at Erik. “I’m going back to my room, darling. I’m calling my partner and we’re having a long talk about this. It’d be best if you kept your distance.” He doesn’t think Erik is aware of anything but he leans down to kiss the man on the cheek anyway. “Until later, love. Enjoy your movie.”

He adjusts his collar before walking past the curtain.

Downstairs he passes the girl at the ticket kiosk and waves at her as she giggles.

He takes a taxi and goes back to the hotel room. He’s surprised to see Logan frowning outside his door.

It’s a good surprise. So he runs to the man and jumps into his arms.

Logan doesn’t stop frowning, “You wanna explain what the hell is going on here?” Logan sniffs him rudely, “And why do you smell like that flying asshat?!”

Charles laughs, “I can explain. Trust me, Logan. I can explain everything.”

 


	23. The Lonely People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is chapter 90 in my word document. How the hell did that happen?

Athens, Greece June 1967

 

The Captain of the Tula is lucky Charles came along. He stands aboard the Tula while it’s anchored. The ship is crawling with a group of Darwin’s soldiers from Utopia. He and Raven are tasked with finding clues through the ship’s murky paperwork. Which leaves the uncooperative captain in a perilous position.

Yuriko and Logan are dangling the man over the pier, taking turns as they punch him in the face and fake dropping him. Charles and Raven pause their research to look over at their respective lovers.

Raven shrugs, “At least they’re being productive.” Yuriko shakes the man until he screams. Raven shrugs again, “Well, Sort of.”

The Captain of the Tula is very lucky, thinks Charles. He’s sure Raven would have allowed them to drown the man. Charles feels a headache coming on. He shakes his head and checks the time. He’s already had more pain medicine than Stephen would prescribe. He rubs his neck, and Raven takes pity on him.

“Give me that list. You’re probably straining your old man eyes trying to read it.”

He gratefully hands his bundle over, “Thanks for that.”

They continue to check off the list of missing persons that match the official registries and passports that lead to this ship. Tessa drives up to the dock in a jeep. Charles was surprised when she decided to leave the safety of the Palace. She’s out today wearing a black-haired wig, similar to what she naturally looked like years ago. She frowns at Logan and Yuriko before walking past them to the massive passenger ship. “I found some of the kids,” she starts while looking back at the Captain. “They say they were left with different families and their parents went ahead on this ship to settle in a new Morlock Commune. They were expecting someone to get them a few days ago, but…”

“But no one is coming,” finishes Charles. He takes another look through the papers. Over 270 mutants are reported as missing. The ships register lists almost 500 passengers. “And we don’t know how many others came here under Xorn’s influence.” He wishes he had killed Erik when he had the chance, but a part of him reasons that he now has an ally across the front lines. Erik isn’t mad about the strangling incident, and is eager to meet with Charles again. Charles notes that the flowers growing in the west garden are really lovely, especially since they’ve been fertilized with over two dozen love letters since the day at the movies.

Three days ago they decided to charge Warren formally. He didn’t take it very well. Hank is on house arrest. Still permitted to work but unable to leave the Palace. Meanwhile, Erik has sent more than just love letters. He sent an evidence postcard. Short, but very precise. A picture of a Grecian villa on one side, a list of docks and distributions centers on the other. A note they that would be handling products that were put together with slave labor. And the number to call a mutant hot-line in Kiev. From there, they traced the Morlock exodus back to this point.

Charles and Raven share the list with Tessa. Tessa is pointing out the names of the families she’s looking for when they all hear the splash. They look up at the same time and to see Yuriko and Logan grinning over the water. Charles gives them his best, ‘I’m so disappointed’ look. Logan laughs at him. “What?! He needed a bath!”

Yuriko nods in agreement and they both walk off, presumably to harass the crew being held in the harbor.

Raven kneels down and inspects some scratches in the hull, “The witnesses all say the ship was boarded by people going on a cruise. Early in the morning. They were happy to get on this boat, but I doubt they left feeling the same way.”

Charles feels helpless, knowing he can’t use his powers to track down the victims of this heinous trafficking. He looks to Tessa instead, “Did you get anything out of the harbormaster?”

She digs into her pocket and hands over a sheet of paper, “He was given a big wad of cash from old Worthington Jr, just for turning a blind eye on the whole spectacle.”

Raven cracks her knuckles, “I’ll go have a word with him. See if I can jog his memory about this ship.”

Charles thinks about letting her go but reasons it wasn’t the poor man’s fault. “No. That’s enough bullying the sailors. I want to talk to Alex about the shipyards in Tel Aviv before we get back to the Gray City. I want you to take Yuriko and check over Shaw’s residences in Berlin and Prague. We’re missing something, and I have a feeling the old tyrant is the key.”

He dismisses his sister and watches as she walks back into danger. Tessa touches his shoulder and gently brings him back, “She and Yuriko are planning to adopt from Japan. Maybe an older kid orphaned from the Wakening. If one of them ever carries, Yuriko is adamant that she goes first.” She smiles, “Whatever happens, remember that you did all that you could to protect your family. Raven is going to be fine because of you.”

Charles feels a ping his heart, “If only…” He shakes his head again, an oncoming migraine making him lose focus.

Tessa pulls him to the side, “You should sit down. Do you want me call Steph?”

“Steph?” He raises an eyebrow and watches her blush. “What kind of name is that for our very distinguished Doctor Strange?”

She’s turns away flushing at the cheeks. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ears and smiles. It’s the first time he’s seen her like this in years. He feels genuinely happy for her. And the good doctor. He knows from personal experience how flexible she is. Mind, body, and spirit. He can’t help giving her a knowing grin and Tessa playfully punches him on the shoulder. “Grow up, _Chuck_.”

 

The next few days are hectic. Charles’s attention is torn between the search for the missing mutants, Warren’s trail, the first round debates of the local candidates, and a rather lengthy love letter from Erik Lehnsherr.

_My Dearest Little Mouse,_

_I feel like a brand new man. Never mind the attempted murder on your part. I knew you couldn’t go through with that a third or fourth time. Whatever the count is between us, know that I still love you. I have always wanted us to grow old together. I sit here now, looking at your latest magazine cover. Look at you Charles, growing old without me! Never mind a few wrinkles and grey hairs. I know how stressed you are without your powers. I’m sorry I ever made those inhibitors. They hobble you and you are wonder to behold at full strength. Even doing the mundane._

_Don’t you ever miss our life together? At Mama’s? In Prague? I miss the way you burn eggs in the morning. Whenever the sky is this blue I think of your eyes… You outmatch it in every way. And your mouth…_

Charles starts to burn the letter, but he’s afraid of Logan sniffing it out in his fireplace. Instead he rips it to pieces and tosses it in a pile of manure when none of the gardeners are looking.

His headaches have started getting worst. He excused himself from all meetings that morning. He had to explain to Aaron over lunch that the Great Patriarch was not completely absent, just standing by as he promised he would. It’s gone over well with the press. The Allied Forces are breathing easier. Charles wanted that, he thinks. He didn’t want to be the subject of everyone’s mistrust. Some people hate him so much… It’s not a feeling that sits well with a telepath. Even with years of practice, he’s still hurts when he feels someone’s negative thoughts are aimed at him. He doesn’t need his powers to see the conservative media in various countries believing the worst about him and mutants in Utopia. Spreading lies and half-truths like a virus.

His head hurts just thinking about it. Hell, he thinks. His head hurts, period. He decides to take a nap and wait for Logan to come home.

 

 

Dreams are rarely a peaceful place for him but with the drugs kicking around in his system, he’s been given dreamless nights. Until now.

The dream starts with him running. He’s out of breath and running along a pool. Lucas is ahead of him, just out of reach. The boy climbs up to the high dive and jumps.

Charles knows this is a dream. His gift makes his ability to lucid dream unique, but he still has a hard time processing the nonsense knocking about his subconscious. The feeling of dread isn’t lessened by that fact that this isn’t real. Instead he falls to his knees, searching the water. It’s murky and red. He reaches out but he’s afraid to touch it. “Please,” he asks no one. “Don’t let him stay in there. Lucas!” He leans over and his fingers skim the water, only to find the pool is full of boiling liquid. He pulls away but a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He can see the shadow of a man standing over him, a hand outstretched holding what he knows to be the red helmet. He sobs but doesn’t turn around.   “Not again,” he whispers closing his eyes.

Nothing happens. Charles opens his eyes to a completely different setting. Moira and a very pregnant Emma sit across from him in Edie’s kitchen. Moira is polishing Emma’s nails. She looks up from her work to smile at Charles. “Lucas reminds me of your father sometimes.”

Emma hums in agreement. She looks up at Charles, “Be a dear and give mommy her glass.”

Charles stays put, “You are not my mother… and you.” He frowns at Moira, “You never met my father. He died.”

Moira shrugs, “You always think you know everything Charles. That’s so unattractive, darling.”

Emma visage shimmers and turns to living stone before his eyes, “Everyone can evolve, Charles. You should know that by now.” She changes back to pink skin and blonde hair. “You should know that better than anyone.”

Charles looks away from them both. His hands are drumming on the table in time with the pounding in his ears. His head, he thinks. It’s probably about to fall off. If he wakes up, he’s taking another dose of Strange’s drugs. Side effects be damned, he thinks.

He feels like he’s sluggishly coming back to the real world. He closes his eyes and opens them in his bed. But it’s the wrong one. The drapes are pulled on the old bed and he jolts upward to look around. The old bed, he realizes, is in Erik’s room in Berlin. The sheets are red and his heavy drapes are pulled just enough to make out the bedside table with the gray woman’s picture. He leans over to look at the photo only to feel another hand on his shoulder.

He curls in on himself, expecting Magneto and his damn helmet again.

“What makes the world love you?!”

Charles flinches at the harsh voice. It’s high and cracking. Familiar, he thinks.   But not Erik. He turns around slowly to see who it is. He’s surprised to find the pale heart-shaped face of the boy Emma called Hugo. The kid looks at Charles, the bloody sclera of his eyes mirrors his own after he’s possessed by the Great Patriarch. But the dark purple marks on the boy’s neck is evidence as to how he died.

The boy hisses at Charles, shaking him by the shoulder. “You! What makes him love you more! What! What did you do?!”

Charles has no answers for this nightmare. But his very existence brings up the same feeling of dread he felt when he saw Lucas disappear into the pool. “You can’t be in my dreams. I closed my mind. I can’t go to the Astral Plane. You are not real. You can’t be real.”

The boy sneers at him before pushing him down and climbing on top of Charles. Charles is too scared to fight back. He tells himself this isn’t possible. Wraiths can’t touch him in his own mind, he thinks. This is just a nightmare.

The boy claws at his face and skull. Charles screams as chunks of hair is pulled out and he feels the boy’s wet panting breath over his face. He’s paralyzed in the bed, unable to move or stop anything. He feels everything, his headache getting worst and worst.

The boy screams in his face. “I was his first! I was there! Me!”

Charles whimpers still unable to fight back. He closes his eyes and tries to wake up. Before the conscious world saves him, he hears the sound of Emma whispering in his ear.

_“You are not alone.”_

 

Charles sits up with a shock in his new bed. He scurries off it only to run into Logan’s broad chest. “Whoa there, Chuck. What’s gotten into you?”

Charles breaks down and cries, throwing himself into the older man’s arms. “It never left. It didn’t work. All this time and it didn’t work. What am I going to do?!”

He doesn’t explain the dream to Logan. The man lets him cry until he too tired to cry anymore. He lays in bed, listening to sound of Logan’s strong heart beating next to his ear. This dream, he thinks was a just his own stress. There is no way for his powers to still be active. No way for En Sabah Nur to still touch him. Perhaps the ghost was just a nightmare. A bad dream he saved in his subconscious mind. He almost comforts himself with the thought until he remembers Emma. Charles is a lucid dreamer for the most part. What on earth could he be trying to tell himself?

He wakes up in the middle of the night, alone but for the dogs who guard the bed. There’s a sheet of paper on Logan’s pillow

_Chuck,_

_I’m going to see an old friend. Calling in a favor to help you with those headaches. Don’t take anymore drugs till I get back. Just stay put._

Charles sighs heavily and wakes up Night. She sits up and waits for permission to join him bed. He gives it, if only to have a warm body nearby.

 

The next day Charles tells Stephen that the implants aren’t working. The pain is too great and he can’t deal with stress anymore. Tessa holds his hand while he’s prepped for surgery and she’s there with the inhibitor crown when it’s over. He slips it on and the thrumming in his skull gets worse.

Hank, brilliant genius that he is, speaks up. “I have a serum. I’ve been working on for years. It could cancel out your mutation with a single injection, Charles. No more implants or bands. But you’d have to be prepared for it. The effects are temporary and I haven’t tested it on a telepath.” He looks away, probably guilty of testing it on someone. “You could try it now that his experiment is over.” Hank gives Tessa and Stephen a nasty look.

Charles sighs, “No. Not yet. I think I have to face him. Before he rips my mind apart. If I don’t I will never know peace.” He raises a brow, “Besides he’s been in solitary for a while. We should speak as grownups. Maybe there’s been some big misunderstanding. Tessa will help me?”

She nods, “Let me get Vincent and we can all go together.”

“No,” he says, “I don’t want Vincent exposed again. Just you and I. If anything happens to me, I need you wake up and crown us both immediately. Do you think you can do that?”

She nods but Stephen stops them both, “I should be there as well. At least then I can monitor you both. Stay in here and pass this safely. I’ll be your kill switch if anything happens.”

Hank clears his throat, “Well I’m here too. You all look at me like I’m a criminal. I’m stuck with guards watching my every move, but I…” He gets up and moves to Charles. “I’ve always loved you, Charles. Like the big brother I never asked for…” He smiles and Charles can’t help smiling back. “It hurts being shut out like this. Do you really trust this witch doctor over me?”

Charles’s chest feels tight but he can’t ignore the evidence against Hank. “I love you too, Hank. But I need to be sure. I need to keep what family I have left, safe.”

Hank eyes shift from side to side. He huffs and throws his arms in the air, “You’ve done that! Everyone is safe and alive because of you! All you had to do was agree to be his! You’ve always been such a… a whore! Why did you have to stop now?” His arms flop down to his side and he sits near the exam table with his head in his hands.

Charles doesn’t ask him to elaborate. That was enough, he thinks. He calls the guards that are indeed posted outside the room. “Please take him outside and wait.” He watches as Hank sluggishly gets up, “I’ll deal with you after this.”

Hank nods weakly. Tessa pats Charles on the shoulder, “Lie back down over here. I’ll join you. Steph, this can be kind of intense. Is there any way you can pull us back?”

He shakes his head, “I’m not sure how this power of walking between worlds work for either of you. Projecting your minds…” He whistles for effect, “That is something I as a mere mortal can’t understand. Yet.” He smirks and helps her up a table. Like a perfect gentleman he kisses her the back of the hand and steps away to give them space. “I’ll be right, Tessa. Charles. Don’t be afraid to call out to me. I’m listening.” He taps the side of his head.

Charles nods and reaches over to Tessa. They hold hands and take a deep breath as Stephen carefully slips off the crown from Charles’s head.

The reaction is slow. His power coming back as a whisper. He hears Hank outside. _“They are delusional. The Great Patriarch was the best thing to ever happen to this world. If I could just explain about Lucas. If I could do anything but sit here wringing my hands…”_

The guards are loyal to Charles and Darwin. _“I never trusted this four-eyed dweeb. He hides what he is. That’s never a good thing… Traitors hide like snakes in the grass…”_

Stephen is concentrating on Tessa. _“Listen to me, my rose. Stay linked with me… ah is that you Charles?”_

Charles smiles, _“Hello there.”_

 _“That was quick,”_ thinks Tessa. _“You’ll be back to full power in no time.”_

Charles’s face drops. Out loud he says, “That’s what I’m afraid of. If he has me while I’m back to full power, who knows what he’ll do. Let’s just hurry in and out, Tessa. I have to face him now. You can lead the way.”

He closes his eyes and let the drag of another’s mind pull him up into the Astral Plane.

He opens his eyes to find them both in the desert landscape. The sky black with millions of stars lighting the sand. Charles points out the familiar tent of the First One. “He was there the last time we spoke.”

Tessa trembles but extends her hand. “Hold on to me, Charles.”

Before they can take their first step, a shadow falls across them blocking the moon and starlight. A hand lands on Charles shoulder and pulls him away just Tessa disappears in the inky darkness.

“This way, Sugar.”

Charles follows. He runs across the sand, blind to the world around them. “Where are you Emma? I can’t see you!”

“I’m barely anywhere now. He’s been feeding off us like a vampire. This way, Charles. Hurry! Before he claims you as another horseman!”

“Charles!”

The voice crying out stops him in his tracks. He starts to turn but he feels the strong hand pulling him onward, “No Charles you can’t go back for her. She’s lost.”

Charles yanks away. “No she is not! We have to stick together. She’s my link to the real world. I can’t block him without her!”

Emma face finally appears, a hand reaches out to him. “You never blocked him, Charles. I’ve been trying to warn you. You’ve given him time to get his new house set up. All he has to do is move in and take over. A living body for his will incarnate. We have to hide you Charles!”

Charles goes with her, “Me. He’s going to possess me and do what? Throw out my consciousness for good? Leave me here? If I’m hiding how am I to protect my body? I have to go back.”

“It’s too late, Charles.” She yanks him forward. “He already has her. It’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting near the end. Like only 20,000 words left. Yay!


	24. Jet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil May 1951

 

Nadia has no imagination, thinks Erik.

She moans prettily enough, he supposes. But she’s overdramatic. Borderline faking. He’s only sure she’s not faking because he’s seen every inch of himself in the mirror. There’s _no reason_ to be faking with him. Still, she is coming off as a little over-enthusiastic. Thrusting into her is starting to feel like a chore. He tunes her out to pay attention to the monitor.

They’re in a suite of the Belmond Copacabana Palace. It’s beautiful the way places that cater solely to the rich and famous are always beautiful. He knows Mama would hate a place like this. Full of servants who run around, forced to cater to people who can’t be bothered to clean up their own shit.

He sits up to flip Nadia over, hoping that if he only sees the back of her brunette head he can get done faster. He yanks a handful of hair and shoves her face down on the pillows. She may be complaining now about air but Erik ignores her. On the bedside table he has several monitors arranged. All the technical equipment clashes with the breezy, art deco styling of the room. But on the monitor the Xavier siblings are happily running around one of the pools. Their mother sits like an inebriated stone while they jump in and out of the water. He’s fortunate his camera is near enough to make out the sight of Charles climbing out of the pool. He watches as the boy shakes water out of his hair before accepting a drink and towel from a valet. Before he can sip his glass, a whirl of blue appears and knocks him back into the pool.

Erik smiles at the scene, his cock harder than before. He turns away and imagines the brunette head under him belonged to Charles. It’s harder to do with Nadia insistent noise making. He realizes she probably needs to breathe and finally lets her up.

“Magneto, please!” She cries out, “Get off!”

Erik rolls his eyes, “I was trying to, but you’re not making it easy.” He lets her go and walks away from the bed. Her face is red and splotchy and he wonders if he went too far. She’s supposed to be helping with the security detail. Her gift is knocking people out with venomous barbs that she spits out.

Nearby in Nova Roma, Daniel and Annaud are refurbishing what they call an old lab of great importance. They’re holding a fake conference for psionics at the same time. The whole point of the ‘conference’ was to expose Charles in an isolated place. Erik had to sit through it yesterday while they were testing and upgrading Charles. They have the rest of the week to observe and test the boy. Erik was told that the boy had recently had an unexpected growth spurt. To let it settle, Daniel had to deactivate him for a few days.

All of this and he’s stuck babysitting Emma as well. The only thing good about this job is being near Charles.

From his window he can see Charles running around again. He starts to push the curtain, curious about whether the boy could see him from so high up.

A knock on the door interrupts him.

He sighs as he finds Emma at his room door. She’s big as a house and frowning up at him, “You’re supposed to be guarding me, you freak. What if I went into labor early? And you’re up here getting laid!”

Erik rolls his eyes. “Let me get dress and I go back to following you around, your majesty.”

She crosses her arms and backs away from the door with her enormous belly.

He dresses quickly in a new suit and checks the monitor once more before leaving. He sticks his head back in the room to assure Nadia. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in an hour or so.” The woman ignores him but he’s certain she’ll do her duty and keep an eye on Charles and his family.

He follows Emma back down to a different pool. He’s not sure why. If anything really threatened the girl she could deal with it herself. He’s convinced she’s just bothering him for the hell of it. He’s certain of it when she unwraps her dress and reveals a two piece bikini is strapped to her great whale-like figure. He looks at her in disgust as she waddles into the pool, “Do you mind, Emma. That’s hardly polite in mixed company.” He motions to the handful of tourists out by the pool. “Can’t you soak up in your own room?”

She splashes him water and he jumps away, afraid of ruining his suit. She laughs at him as she sinks in the pool. “You are the prissiest boy I’ve ever met, Lehnsherr. And I’ve dated Frenchmen.” She leans back in the water letting the swell of her belly float up to the surface. An old couple coo at them from a nearby umbrella.

The old man actually gives Erik a thumbs up, “Come here! I have a cigar for you, young man. Every proud father to be should have a collection!” He says in broken English. He laughs, waving his cigar around. Erik doesn’t see any point in restraining himself. He frees the metal in one of the umbrella poles to stab the old man in the eye. It looks like a freak accident. Everyone is screaming and there’s blood everywhere. The poolside is cleared as people follow the old couple and some doctors out into the lobby.

Left alone, Erik walks over to the pool with his hands in his pocket. He feels better now that he’s gotten some violence out of his system. There’s still Nadia upstairs, but he can wait. “Azazel is almost done remapping Nova Roma. We can be out of this country soon.”

Emma flaps around. She retains some elegance even with her beach ball gut. “We have to hurry back to the lab. This one is a kicker. He’s not going to just wait around for Annaud to cut him out, I can tell.”

Erik trembles, thinking about the other living clone. Celeste is three years old now. Daniel and his Father tried to change the thing’s name but Emma put her pointy little foot down on the matter. They are stuck with a thing that looks a little like Charles but not really. He doesn’t walk or talk. He only speaks to Emma with telepathy. He has managed to survive all of their experiments. He’s caught Daniel calling it son on more than one occasion. But he’s sure the man would still happily cut into the thing to harvest its organs.

Emma is the only one who’s grown attached their little experiment. He worries about that. And thinks this whole thing should be stopped. But Annaud argued the project will require a great deal of new research and experimentation. They can’t test all their procedures on Charles. He’s too valuable and not easily accessed.

Celeste is strong but quiet. Eerie would be a better way to describe him. Erik shudders to think of what she might be carrying this time.

Speak of the devil he thinks. Emma jolts up suddenly, waving him over. “Oh god!”

“Oh god,” parrots Erik. He had no intention of being here for _this_. Emma moans again and tries to paddle over to the side of the pool. He has to pull the great girth of her out. He backs away when he’s sure she’s not going to drown. Then considers kicking her back in the water when he realizes his suit is ruined.

“OH GOD!” She clutches her middle and Erik feels all the blood in his face drain.

“Shut up! You don’t have to be so dramatic. You’ve done this before, you stupid girl.” He moves away from her reaching into his pocket for his communicator. He calls Azazel and the other man answers with a curt ‘Da.’ Emma is still moaning like she’ll die any minute. It sets his teeth on edge. “Can you hurry up over there? This bitch just ruined my suit with god knows what leaking out of her body!”

Azazel has the audacity to laugh. “One moment, little Red. Almost finished. The good doctor would like me to transport you two here when he’s sure there’s enough air.

“Air?” Erik frowns, knowing the lab they’re building under the old city had a cave in after Selene died. “What do you mean air? Is that place safe, Azazel? Azazel?!”   The man hangs up on him and Erik is left with Emma making a bloody looking mess near the pool. She sits up on her elbows and reaches down with one hand. For a terrifying moment Erik thinks she’s going to deliver the baby right there.

He’s about to vomit when a familiar hand pats him on the back.

Dr. Annaud and Azazel laugh at his face before collecting Emma. “All went well with the conference?” The old man pats him again.

All he can do as nod as he waits his turn.

 

The day goes by quickly after they arrive in the new lab. There are three babies this time. Two are alive and one is stillborn. Annaud and Daniel decide to keep the fattest baby. They place it in a vat similar to the one that incubated Celeste. The other living thing is taken from Emma. She cries and cries and asks for it. Daniel lies and tells her it won’t work, that this one is too weak to survive.

Erik scoffs, looking at readout from one of the monitors. This baby is as healthy as the other one.

They have to knock her out to keep her from killing everyone. Erik is in charge of putting her in an isolation room. It was made to block psychic influence. He leaves her there before checking in on Annaud and Daniel. Annaud is happily taking samples for Subject D, the baby called Esme by Emma.

Daniel is already elbow in viscera. Whatever girl’s name Emma was going to give that one, it doesn’t matter now.

He ignores them to seek out Azazel, hoping for a ride back to Rio.

The other man doesn’t appear when he’s called and Erik has to settle for flying himself back. It takes almost two hours as he is reluctant to go too high, but has more difficulty maneuvering around trees. He prefers the metal in a city to all this ridiculous, sprawling nature. He’s almost halfway there when he stops. He hides himself up in a tree and smiles so hard his face hurts.

His little blue princeling is out on his own. Miles away from the city. It’s only been a few hours, thinks Erik. Charles must have just joined this little expedition. There’s three others with him, including Nadia. Part of her cover was to act like a wildlife expert. He wonders how she managed all this.

He moves closer, safe in the knowledge that his beloved little mouse can’t hear his thoughts.

He can hear Nadia as she displays a bird for the crowd. “I have seen few Macaws like this, Mr. Xavier. They’re rarely seen this far south. I would not recommend taking him home as a pet. They are this beautiful to attract mates. You take him away and who’s he going to sing to?”

Charles looks sadly at the bird, “I understand. My mother hates pets anyway. But I’ve always liked birds.” He reaches out, only to be squawked at.

Erik grins at the sight. He notices Nadia telling the others to stay together. They’re all dressed in light linen clothes. Charles is wearing red shorts and a floppy panama hat. A thin grey t-shirt clinging to his skinny frame. A fat man, balding in the center of his head carrying a shotgun is sweating buckets. A woman strangely wearing high-heel shoes has to ask to go back to the car. Nadia agrees to take her and tries to pull Charles along.

Erik flips open his communicator, “Wait,” he tells her. “Leave him here and I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Nadia frowns, a hand going to the earpiece. He can’t make out what she says as she turns her back to him. She leads the others away, leaving Charles to stare at a pretty blue bird.

Erik eyes the truck they hiked from about a mile away. He nudges the doors locked. It’ll be awhile before they can rescue the silly woman’s shoes.

He lands softly on the ground and walks towards Charles. The boy doesn’t even look up to see who’s there. Instead he whistles and clicks at the bird. “Pretty bird,” he says. “Come on. Speak. I know you can. If you talk, my mother will let you come home with me. Say ‘Pretty woman’. That’ll knock her socks off.”

Erik resists laughing at his little love. Instead he lets out a whistle. A long, steady breathe and Charles turns around in surprise. The boy greets him with smile and he smiles back, glad that Charles is unafraid of him.

“Hello,” says the proper young man. He offers his hand, “I’m Charles Xavier. Are you with the hotel?” He eyes Erik’s suit, coming to the natural conclusion.

Erik laughs this time, “No. No, I’m just a guest. Like you. I’m… I’m Max Eisenhardt.” He loathes that fact that he can’t give his real name yet. “I was interested in finding a new pet as well. It seems you left with the only wildlife expert.”

“Guilty,” Charles shrugs, but the smile on face says he delights in the news. “I didn’t mean to hog her, you understand. But I really wanted to see these birds. I’d love one for my sister. A classmate of mine taught his to speak!”

Erik hasn’t been so close to Charles in years. Not while he was cognizant. He’s happy Charles can’t see the thoughts running through his head. He’d probably scare the boy off. Instead he offers his most disarming smile and gets closer.

Charles lets him. Completely trusting the way rich children are when they think they’re too good for bad things to happen to them. Erik bites his own tongue as Charles moves to the side, offering him space at the tree. The boy turns his back on Erik to go back to the bird. It seems the feathery vermin has attracted a mate.

Charles smiles brightly at the thing, his eyes lighting up. “Look at that! They’re singing to each other! I wish I had a camera with me. Raven would love to see this!”   He takes his hat off to fan himself while he looks on, grinning.

Erik basks in the light of Charles’s happiness. The boy’s warmth hasn’t diminished. He’s still made of joy and hope. It’s a rare and beautiful thing in this world. Erik wants so desperately to be closer. He barely resists touching that soft hair or the exposed neck. He feels compelled to just throw himself at the boy. Instead he clears his throat. “Aren’t you a little young to be out here on your own?”

Charles visibly bristles at that. He stands straighter, and clears his own throat. He says seriously, “I’m almost sixteen.” In the deepest voice he can manage. It’s all music to Erik’s ears. He feels like the bad wolf stalking Little Red Riding Hood. It doesn’t help that Charles bends to an actual basket, “I have some water if you want some. Are you thirsty?” He asks with his big, round eyes. “I feel like I could melt out here.”

Erik hopes he’s not breathing as hard as he feels… He reaches out and touches the bare skin at back of Charles’s neck. “You’re going burn out here. Even under the shade. Do you want to go further in? There’s more cover about mile up that way,” he points in the direction he came. Away from the truck of tourists. And Nadia.

Charles is a sweet, naïve creature. The boy nods and follows as Erik leads him deeper into the rainforest. The boy is marveling at the birds and animals sounds. “Do you think we’ll see any snakes?! I’ve always wanted to see an anaconda!”

“Always,” says Erik doubtfully.

Charles corrects himself, “Well since I read about them yesterday.” He says sheepishly, “Always since yesterday.”

Erik laughs opening his palm, hoping Charles will take it. By some miracle the boy just smiles and takes his hand, following him as they move further away. Charles looks up at him and smiles sweetly. Completely blind without his telepathy, thinks Erik.

“Are you here with your family?” Charles swings their arms between, walking at a faster pace to keep up with Erik’s legs. “I’m here with my mum and my sister. My stepfather is at some kind of conference.”

Erik stops them under a big tree, pulls Charles along until the boy is plastered against the trunk. “Shh, I hear something.” He doesn’t sense any danger, but he feels Charles’s heart beating faster. The boy’s pulse is racing and he’s panting while looking frantically from one tree to another.

“Is it a Jaguar? I’ve always wanted to… I mean since yesterday, I’ve wanted to see one. But not so close up. Are we in any danger?” He asks before biting his bottom lip. He worries it red and looks up with the most trusting expression. “Should we call for help?”

Something in Erik snaps at the sight. Perhaps it was the red, he tells himself. He surges forward, covering Charles’s mouth with his hand. The boy doesn’t struggle at first. He too busy looking for wild animals to notice Erik’s intention. Erik leans down, smelling the still fresh, clean hair. His brushes his nose against Charles’s ear and mouths gently at his neck before whispering. “Don’t be afraid, my little mouse. I’m not going to hurt you.” He warns.

That switches off some preservation instinct in the boy. Charles starts thrashing around and squealing. Erik grins down at him and holds him tighter. He can make out some pleading that sounds like ‘no’ and ‘please’.

“Quiet, Charles. I just want… it won’t take long and I swear I won’t hurt you. Open up for me, darling. Please?” He leans down and kisses the boy gently below his ear.

Charles goes completely still beneath him and backs away to take in the sight of boy, quietly sobbing. Erik loosens his grip and slowly peels his hand back. He carefully nips at Charles mouth only for the boy to lash out and bite him. That only makes Erik more eager. He pushes Charles back roughly, and holds him still with barely any effort.

Charles’s eyes water and he thrashes his head, “Please. Please don’t do this, sir. Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

Erik frowns at the boy’s reasoning, “I think I should keep you, after this Charles. Show the others just how exposed you are. You’re not safe out here. You’re far too trusting.”

The boy kicks out and stomps on the Erik’s toes. It’s enough to let him squirm a few inches but Erik has him pinned again after a few seconds.

“Stop fighting. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to… I want to share something with you. I love you, Charles. You and I are meant to be together and I hate not having you near. Just listen to me Charles, and I think we can…” He pauses mid though feeling a suddenly pinch in the back of his neck.

He looks down at Charles, his hands slipping away from the younger man’s body. Charles runs off and Erik is left flailing as he falls to his knees.

“That was stupid, Lehnsherr.” Nadia circles around to stand in front of him. “Your Father would like to see you now.”

Erik closes his eyes, angry with himself for giving into temptation.

 

When he next opens his eyes, he’s in newly refurbished lab in Nova Roma. He’s strapped to a chair, his body bent over and head tied down to a table. He can hear voices in the lab with him. Nearby there’s a vat of reddish fluid, a new baby head floating around in it. Daniel comes around to observe it, “I wonder if I can start with scratch with this one. Emma is all in tizzy but she’s doing better since we brought it Celeste.” He turns to Erik and wags a finger. “We’re giving you a pass this time Erik. Call it an opportunity. We’re going to test Celeste’s ability on you. Emma will supervise but the cuckoo will do the wipe. For your sake, I hope he’s successful.” He smiles and walks away leaving Erik alone for some time.

Erik tries to remove his restraints only realize he’s probably had his powers nullified with one their experimental collars.

Celeste is a still a eerie child. He’s rolled over to Erik’s side while still in his little cot. The baby sits up and looks over Erik’s shoulder, presumably at Emma. He hears the child’s voice for the first time in his mind. “ _Hello Uncle.”_ It’s nothing like Charles’s voice he thinks. “ _Mother says I have to take your bad thoughts away. What bad thing did you do this time?”_

Erik grins, “ _Why don’t look and see for yourself.”_

“Erik,” warns Emma aloud. “He has to be very careful. This is your only brain, you know. You shouldn’t try to hinder his performance.”

Erik sighs, “Fine. Do what you must. I know the truth. You can’t take that from me.”

The baby smiles at him and leans over, “I know all the truths, Uncle. The only things you have is what is given to you. My mother gives you memories and dreams. I can take them away. So can my brother. So can the First One.” Erik doesn’t understand and the boy doesn’t bother explaining. He knifes into Erik’s thoughts and Erik is left a drooling mess on the table.

He sees the last day being torn out of his mind like pages of a book. He grabs a hold of the memory of Charles. The way he looked at the pool. In the forest. He holds on to the way the boy smelled and tasted. He holds on for all he’s worth.

It’s not enough.

##  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil May 1951


	25. Strawberry Fields

 The Astral Plane 1967

 

The dark well has become a prison. They ran here together but Emma steadily faded away.

She told him about the cuckoo project. The clones of him that he gleefully destroyed the day he escaped. “They were my children,” she cried. “They were mine and you killed them.”

Charles thinks of the boy with his face. The one he shot in the head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She fades away gradually after his apology but leaves the impression again.

_“You are not alone.”_

Charles clutches his head, feeling even worst. He tries to climb out of the well. But the opening is too high up. The world is distorted for the First One’s purposes. And right now, the all-powerful being wants Charles down here. There’s nothing he can do. Nothing but wait as time passes.

But time in the Astral Plane is hard to gauge. Charles feels like he been locked away for an eternity. But a part of him feels like he’s been gone for minutes. He wonders if Stephen found a way to stop the First One in time. Perhaps he’s stuck down here, separated from his body because he’s already been crowned with an inhibitor. Perhaps Tessa is all right. They could be trying to find a way to save him. He smiles to himself, thinking Logan is will tear the palace apart.

It’s the most hopeful outlook on the table. But if he is stranded in the Astral Plane, still feeling the heavy presence of the Great Patriarch, then he has to accept he may never wake up. It’s for the good of the world, he thinks. He resigns himself to exile in this dimension and sinks to ground. He curls up in a ball and tries to rest.

He knows he’s still holed up in an oubliette in the Astral Plane, but his mind imagines he’s dreaming.

_“Charles, honey! Did you get the bottles off the table?!”_

_Moira’s voice rings from outside. Charles juggles a bag of baby things, their daughter in one arm, and Lucas wrapped around one leg. “Come on up from there and help me with Cyndi before your mother leaves without us!”_

_Lucas sighs before sitting up, “She wouldn’t do that. She’s too brave to leave people behind.” He tosses Charles an angry look before taking the baby bag and going outside._

_Charles shifts his daughter to the other arm. He smiles down at the girl. She looks more like him than Lucas did when he was born. Moira calls her an exact copy. Even the freckles are in the right place, he muses. “You must be tired of all this running around. But we can’t be late for Aunt Tessa’s wedding. Your cousins and god-sister will be there.”_

_The baby gurgles, then pulls at his face. Charles laughs. But then she pulls harder and Charles is suddenly afraid of how strong she is. He sits her down on the floor and holds out his hands. “Don’t move. Just stay like that. Please.” He’s thinking of finding his camera and taking a quick picture of his lovely little girl._

_The baby doesn’t listen. She stands up and grows before his eyes. He used to marvel at Raven when she changed form as a child, but seeing his baby girl do it is unnerving. The young woman standing before him now looks just like Eun. She takes him by the hand and tries to lead him upstairs._

_“Come on, I know a place!”_

_Charles yanks away, his stomach roiling. “You can’t be here!”_

_The Korean girl looks back at him with a sneer, “I can do whatever I want when grandmother is sleeping! Come on, Charles. We don’t have much time. You don’t still want my sisters do you?”_

_The last thing he heard about the two women, they were still working for the Korean military. They’re using their brilliant math skills to aid a new space program. Project M or something. He shakes his head, having reality intrude on his fantasy life is disconcerting. “Never mind,” he tells her. He sinks down on the ground and closes his eyes._

When Charles next opens his eyes he’s back in the bottom of the well, only this time the opening is far closer. He stands up and jumps until he can pull himself over the edge. Everything is white and then there’s nothing.

Until he opens his eyes again in the real world.

 

“Where am I?” He says. His voice is hoarse. He’s still in the lab, strapped down to an exam table.

“Charles!” Tessa hovers over him. “Oh thank god! You’re awake!”

Charles swallows and stares up at her. She looks like an angel, he thinks. She dressed in a light blue gown, her head wrapped in a dark scarf. She pets him on the head before undoing the restraints. “I was worried you would never wake up. You’ve been out for a long time.” She helps him to sit up. He feels weak and has to lean on her.

“What happened? Did you stop him? Is everything okay?” He asks looking up at her. She only offers him a smile and tries to help him stand up. He grabs her wrist and he buries his face in her chest, “I thought I lost you in there. I heard you calling out and Emma said you were gone.”

Tessa strokes her fingers through his hair. He notes how long it is now, falling well over his eyes.

He looks up, scrubbing a hand through his own beard, “How long was I asleep?”

She looks sad but doesn’t answer. “Long enough. We all missed you so much. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up before we see the others.

Tessa helps him down into a wheelchair and steers him back towards his rooms. The halls are quiet. It must be late at night, he thinks. No one is around. They make it back to his room and he expects to see Logan or Night and Day. He says as much and Tessa sighs.

“Logan left before you had implants out remember? We haven’t seen him since. Raven was really pissed off about that. She and Yuriko came back from their assignments and told us they found evidence of another laboratory. I don’t want to overload you Charles, but it helped. It helped a lot.”

Charles frowns thinking of Logan’s promise. “That doesn’t sound like Logan. Has anyone checked on him…” He realizes he’s about to start giving orders. Why, he asks himself. He still doesn’t know what’s going on. His powers feel faint. Perhaps suppressed from being inactive, he reasons. Charles pats his friend on the hand, “Thank you, Tessa. I’ve been so worried. I thought I was going mad in that other dimension. How’s my mother holding up? How did the elections go?”

Tessa takes him to the bathroom and starts filling the tub. She helps him get undressed and manages to get him in the tub. He’s lost weight since he’s been sleeping and blushes, thinking of the sight he must make. She moves about automatically, helping him wash and get out to dry. She wraps him in a robe, gets him in the chair, and wheels him to the sink. “A shave would help you for more like yourself. You want some help?”

He shakes his head, “A moment please. I’ll be out in a second. Thank you, Tessa.”

She nods and leaves him there to look at himself in the mirror. He can’t tell how long he’s been out, but he’d say there was about three months’ worth of beard on his face. She brushed his wet hair back but it curls at his neck and over his ears. Charles scrubs a hand over his face, “I’ve lost so much time these last few years. I’ll never get a second of it back…” He hangs his head and starts to cry. At least he’s waking up in a new world. He perks up thinking the plans he laid have worked. And Raven and Yuriko owe him a niece or nephew. He smiles at the thought before sitting up. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and gets on with shaving.

 

When he’s finished he thinks he looks like his old self. Just before he went after Moira and Raven into the Rhineland. Professor Charles Xavier, former Captain with the Allied Forces. He gives himself a tight smile and calls for Tessa.

She helps him out the room and down the halls again. The sky outside the windows is dark and still. He wonders what time it is but doesn’t bother asking. They enter the Great Hall and Charles stares in awe at how it’s changed. The patrician columns are gone, the white marble and long path to the dais are gone. He smiles thinking this for the new administration. A future president will be taking press conferences here. No more Living Gods or Venerable Hosts. No more mad, human-hating dictators. Or delusional Lotharios. He sighs in relief.

Tessa wheels up to where red and white sheets are draping over the new construction. The throne dais has a high flat platform on it, covered in sheets as well. “Are we building something new for the press?” He looks up and Tessa combs her fingers through his hair again before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. He accepts the comfort before looking to the empty spot where Lucas was shrined, “Where’s my son?”

Tessa pushes him all the way to the platform. “He’s somewhere safe, Charles. The others will be here in a moment.”

He reaches out to the platform and is surprised to feel it give. “Is this a mattress? In the Great Hall?” He looks back at her confused, “What the hell is going on? Where is everyone?” He tries to use his powers only to find himself blocked off. He frowns up at her, “Why can’t I use my telepathy? Did Stephen do this?”

Tessa kneels down in front of him and looks up with a gentle expression on her face. “Doctor Strange is dead, I’m afraid. So are your dogs, and brave Lila. And Vincent. There were many loses at first but, everything within Utopia has settled, my shining Starlight. Its time now we march outward. It’s time to take your place at my side with the others.”

She stands up and wheels Charles around. He sees the shadows before the other councilman enter. It’s not what he expected. Warren walks out, his glorious white wings changed to metal. He extends them and marches forward a like figure in a child’s nightmare. He grins and licks his lip before stopping in front of Charles. He kneels and bows his head, “First One.” Warren then looks up and gives Charles a lecherous look before addressing him, “Consort.”

Tessa rests a hand on Charles’s shoulder, “You have to admit, this is an improvement, my Starlight.”

Charles feels his breath coming faster as he’s stricken with fear, “Tessa… Are you? What is this?”

Tessa circles around and holds out a hand, “Come forward my horseman.”

Warren stands up and takes Tessa’s hand, kissing the tips of her fingers, “He looks so surprised. I’m almost ashamed of how easy it was.”

Charles shakes his head, “This isn’t real. I’m sleeping.” He looks up at Tessa, “Memento Mori, remember? Besides, The First One wouldn’t possess you. I’m the Host. He wouldn’t… why would he do this to you? Why go to through this…”

Tessa shushes him, rubbing his chin with the back of her little hand, “Calm down. I have presents for you, my Starlight. You don’t have to pressure yourself thinking of ways to fight this. It has been four months, my love.” She scratches a hand through his hair. The gesture has stopped being a comfort. “And I have taken down all but the most resilient opposition. Soon with you back to full power, we will take them as well. My traitor sons and daughters. Your detractors. The weakness that plagues this planet. All the evil in the world gone with one swing of the sword. It will be glorious. You must see that.”

Charles struggles to accept his words. The enormity of it all is a thousand times worse than anything else he’s ever felt. “Where is my family?”

Tessa gives him a slow, fernlike smile. But at this point he supposes he should think of her as the Great Patriarch. She pats him on the shoulder, still acting so familiar with him. “Your mother accepts her new place with grace, Charles. She is of very good stock. I see where your entitlement comes from.” She laughs, “And she sleeps now surrounded by jewels and furs.”

Charles wonders if this thing has pushed his mother back to the bottle. But there’s Raven. Raven wouldn’t just lie down take this. “Where’s my sister?!”

Tessa gestures for Warren to come closer. The man with the metal wings understands this to mean he should move Charles from the wheelchair. The telepath thrashes for a moment but Tessa’s hand curls around the nape of his neck. “Raven is secure, Charles. She and her beloved are fine. Now, still yourself.” She backs away while Warren moves Charles to the platform. Without his strength, he just sits there. Holding himself up and glaring daggers at the both of them.

“Darwin and Alex… Mr. Reeves. Where are my people?” He doesn’t bother shouting. The Living God isn’t something you can just yell at. Whatever Warren’s become he looks far more formidable than the horny, winged man he met months ago.

Tessa tilts her head, shrugging as she circles around the dais. “In truth, I only need four in this world. My horseman serve me and only me. And through their service, they create a better world for those deserving of life.” She stops near Warren and he holds out his hand presenting a strange coin.

“Death, my Pale Horse.” Tessa motions to the doors of the Great hall as they open.

Charles feels like he could swallow his own tongue. He stares at N’Dare as she marches in, wearing green and white armor. A golden crown on top of her hair. He’s never seen her locs and braids loose before, but her hair falls down past her waist now. She looks like a queen in battle gear. There are no words for how he feels. Charles is both relieved and terrified at the same time. “N’Dare,” he squeaks out, reaching for her with a shaky hand.

She looks at him with hardly any emotion. Tessa introduces her, “Conquest, my White Horse. She is the Earth goddess and mother to the Storm Goddess.” Tessa walks up to the platform and pulls Charles close, “They have the power to feed nations or destroy them with their will. I will use them as my bow and arrow.”

N’Dare marches forward bows in a similar fashion as Warren did. “I’m glad to see you again, old friend.”

Charles reaches out, “Please, don’t do that. Help me. We have to get out of here.”

Tessa tuts at him and pulls him back to the center of the platform. “One more horseman, my love.” She outstretches her hand and says simply, “Famine.”

All the fear roiling around his belly is gone when Erik steps out. The weakness and despair that paralyzed him is suddenly gone. Charles tries to launch himself off the platform. “You!”

Warren has to catch and hold him back.

Erik stares on as N’Dare did. Hardly any emotion on his face. “Still the Oxford boxer, darling?” He smirks, belying whatever control En Sabah Nur has over him. “Don’t I get a kiss hello or something? You never answered my letters. I tried to warn you this day would come, but you never listened. You never wrote me back. I’m starting to think you didn’t read them.” He’s wearing armor like N’Dare. His is dark red and black, a helmet tucked under his arm.

Charles pushes Warren away, “Why are you doing this!” He looks to Tessa. “Of all the people in the world to use, why him!”

Tessa looks sad, her pretty eyes big and soft as she looks from him to Erik. “The monster in your nightmares. Is also the angel of your dreams,” she projects the memory Erik shared with him. The one of boy in hospital bed, giving a kiss to the good-looking stranger. Charles shakes his head and Tessa laughs at him. “I promised to give you everything you wanted. This man has the potential to control the most fundamental forces in nature with his ability. He can help us to reshape this entire world.”

Charles fumes at that, “But I don’t want to reshape anything! And I definitely don’t want him alive!” He re-evaluates his stance on not yelling. Clearly En Sabah Nur isn’t listening. “Let Tessa go! I am your host. You promised to protect me! The people I care about. All you’ve given me is death and misery! You’re a liar and a murderer and I want you to leave her alone! Now!” He reaches out thinking he could shake the Living God loose from her body.

Tessa suffers him moment before her body changes. Gone is the petite telepath with the big eyes. Now Charles is faced with the ancient warrior, wearing only a collar of gold and red loin cloth.

Charles backs away, only to find Warren’s hand on his shoulder. He pulls until Charles is down on his back.

En Sabah Nur waves a hand, and his Horsemen clear away from the platform. He steps up on to it and straddles Charles’s waist before the younger man can get up. “War is my cherished, love. War is the vehicle of real change. No matter what century or plane I’m on. War is always my favorite,” he smiles down with sharp teeth and black lips. “Now I will give you a gift, my child. And thereafter you will be my Red Horse.”

He leans down, his arms caging Charles in on the platform. Charles turns his head, but all he sees is Erik standing to the side like an obedient dog. He huffs out as The First One’s tries to catch him, finally grabbing Charles’s chin and holding him still. “I am warrior. I do not steal or beg. I earn my prizes. I do not take what is not freely given to me.” He kisses Charles gently on the lips, “But you were promised to me a long time ago Charles. You were mine before you were born. There is nothing I can’t take from you. You owe me your life,” he reaches down and undoes the robe, “Your loyalty…”

Charles tries to kick out as the man settles between his legs, “No don’t!” He looks over to Erik, “Please! Don’t let him do this! Help me!” Erik turns away and Charles wishes even more for a chance to kill the man. “You fucking coward!”

En Sabah Nur holds him still with one hand while he holds out a coin, “This is your sword, my Starlight.” He smiles as he presses it into one of Charles hands. “And I am your master. You will obey me or face the consequences.”

It echoes Erik first words to him, years ago in that horrible prison. Charles closes his eyes and tries to find the strength to survive this new horror. The god above laughs and Charles opens his eyes. The First One has Charles’s hands bound over his head in one hand, while his other holds Charles’s legs apart.

The Living God laughs again before sharing his joke. He leans down to whisper in Charles’s ear.

“999…”

Charles looks at Erik and sees the man clenching his fist as he refuses to look.

“989…”

N’Dare looks on, with a glazed expression.

“988…”

Warren stays at the foot of the platform, eager to watch. Charles learns later he was only waiting for his turn.

“987…”

Charles stops fighting and lays stills as the Great Patriarch finally enters him. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the way the creature above continues counting until he fully sheathed. He starts thrusting without waiting for Charles to adjust, setting the young man’s body on fire with the intrusion.

“Ah, my Starlight.”

Charles turns his head away, wishing he were anywhere else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why can’t I just let Charles be happy! Why? What’s wrong with me!


	26. Greetings

Gray City, Utopia October 1967

 

Charles lies under the Great Patriarch for a time thinking he would be better off dead.

Then there’s a subtle baton switch, the First One handing over the reins to a man he called Death.

Charles endures that thinking of what Logan will do when he finds out about this.

Neither Erik nor N’Dare take a turn. Erik looks pained, standing off to the side. It serves him right, thinks Charles. The one thing he never allowed himself to do was hurt Erik the way the man so easily did him. Whatever Erik experienced out on his own after the Wakening, had nothing to do with Charles. He would trade places now, he thinks. Hand over Erik’s ass to the voracious pounding. Leave him to suffer this…

When Warren is satisfied he gets up, bowing to his god again for the favor. Erik escorts En Sabah Nur as he leaves Charles in the center of the Great Hall. Warren tries to move him, but Charles has recovered enough to push him away. N’Dare is tasked with returning him to his room. Her movements are quick and impersonal. She leaves him near his own bed and locks the doors when he leaves.

Charles has the rest of the night to feel sick and desperate. He throws the coin somewhere in the room, hoping to never see it again. His stomach turns and he vomits on the side of the bed. In his fit, he thrashes around, pitying himself, slapping himself, blaming himself.

Its only when the sun starts to rise that he starts to feel more even-keeled. A voice in the back of his mind echoes out, “ _Remember you are not alone.”_

_He sees himself before he released the Great Patriarch. The power he could wield on his own. How he tore apart the labs, then the Hellfire club. How he cut into Shaw’s mind. He sees himself as a leader in the world torn apart. All the people he helped. His family. A part of him wants to curl up and die after last night, but the voices in his head keep echoing._

_“You are not alone.”_

He hardly believes them, but it helps. Somehow it helps to give him strength. He gets up and hobbles over to the balcony, only to find it locked. Then he moves to his bedroom’s doors to find them locked as well. He goes to the bathroom and stands in the shower for what feels like hours.

Charles only comes out as he hears someone moving around in the other room.

Wary after all the surprises last night, he leaves the water running in the shower as he steps out. He covers himself quickly with a towel. Charles is hesitant to go outside with nothing on. He slowly opens the door and peeks into the room.

 

“Hi daddy!” Waves Lucas from the middle of the room. The boy smiles, wearing short pants and high socks. He’s looks like he’s ready for school.

Charles chokes on the sight and sinks to his knees, letting the door swing open.

“Daddy are you okay?” The boy comes over and shakes his shoulder. “Are you hungry? Grandmother, I mean Mrs. Xavier sent me to get you for breakfast. Do you want waffles, Daddy?”

Charles stares at his son, tears clouding his eyes. He raises a hand to push through what he’s sure is an illusion.

Lucas laughs, “Daddy that tickles!” He stands up and moves away from Charles, “Get dressed and come on to Grandmother’s room.”

Charles starts bawling. “Lucas!” He grabs his son and stands up with him in his arms. Months of grief and guilt then suddenly his child is alive and whole. He holds him close and kisses his hair. “Lucas!” He can’t find the words to express how he feels. Lucas squirms in his grasp.

“Daddy you are getting my clothes wet!” He scrambles down, but Charles still holds his hands in a death grip. “Daddy let go! You’re naked!”

Charles barks out a laugh and he pulls his son back into another hug. “I know. I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lucas. I’m so fucking sorry.” He sobs into his son’s hair.

Lucas pulls away and pats his once perfectly combed hair, “That’s gross! You’re all snotty, daddy. I am _not_ a tissue.” He says seriously. “I’m a little boy.”

Charles grins before grabbing his son’s face and kissing him all over his cheeks and forehead. “My little boy. And you’re okay. How? How did this happen?”

Lucas escapes him again. “Dad! Stop slobbering on me.” He pouts at Charles. “I’m going to tell Aunt Raven you’re up here having some kind of fit.” He runs off and leaves his father on the floor.

Charles doesn’t have time to absorb the shock of finding his son alive and well. He’s just getting off the floor when Ambrose and Mr. Reeves blow into the room.

Ambrose sighs deeply, “Good lord in heaven. You look twelve years old.”

Mr. Reeves inspects Charles with a frown, “He looks fine to me.”

“Fine!” Ambrose throws his or her hands up in the air. “I don’t work with _fine_! The Great Patriarch demands perfection! Image! Solidarity! We can’t have him standing up there this afternoon with a child bride from some Dickens’ novel!”

Charles flinches at the words and backs away, “I’m not sure what’s going on here. I want you two…” he starts unsure of what he wants. He adjusts the towel around his waist. “Just give me a minute, okay? I don’t understand what’s going. How did this all happen? The Great Patriarch is insane and he’s taken over the world. How did he bring Lucas back? Where’s Logan?”

Ambrose clicks at him and slaps Mr. Reeves until the fumbling young man leaves and returns with a rack of clothes.

“Language Professor. I get that you’ve been out of it for a spell but there’s no reason to slander the Great Patriarch. Now let’s see… Red, violet, blue. The press is eating up this story of ‘the Ancient One returns to full power’. It’s trending all over the world. Twiggy did this thing with ornate costumes and a strong Egyptian motif, you know?” Ambrose looks at the racks, pulling out at thin linen suit. “And after that everyone started going tribal. It’s insane. Let’s size you for some gladiator sandals.”

“No,” says Charles gently. Whatever his friends have accepted, he will not just go along with it. He hopes by just playing along he doesn’t throw up any red flags. “I’ll dress myself and go on to Sharon for breakfast. That’s what expected of me, right?”

Mr. Reeves nods in the affirmative but Ambrose rolls his or her eyes. “Can’t you just try on a robe or two before the conference? If the Vice President matches Alex then I want you to match the Great Patriarch for the cover.”

Charles frowns, wondering what’s become of his friends. “Alex is the President of the Mutant States?”

Mr. Reeves suffers for Charles’s ignorance. Ambrose slaps him on the chest before storming out, muttering about how a little coma is no reason to keep your head in the sand.

Mr. Reeves is more patient with Charles. “I’m to fill you in on all the details of the last few months. You have to be all caught up by this afternoon. I’m so glad you’re okay sir. We were all so scared after finding out that Strange was working for that family and had experimented on you. Thank goodness for Dr. McCoy.” He smiles, “It’s a shame he’s not here to see you up and about this morning, sir.”

Charles wonders about Hank’s role. He tries not to act like a victim who recently woke up and found the whole world on fire. He casually walks over to his own closet and looks for something _not_ trending to put on. He steps on Logan’s bag before he sees it. Answering one suspicion before he can ask. “Where’s Logan?”

Reeves stammers, “We haven’t seen him since the day before your surgery, sir. He left remember?” The young man shrugs, “I think he took his dogs with him. They never reported to the wall for guard duty.”

Charles corrects him while trying to look nonchalant, “The dogs were with me the night he left. He said he’d be right back. Has anyone tried looking for him?”

Reeves sits on the bed, looking completely lost. “I’m not sure sir. I’m to fill you in on the state of Utopia and the march that’s planned on Russia next month.”

Charles picks out a brown suit and starts getting dressed, “Then fill me in, Mr. Reeves. What the hell is going on? Who is the president of Utopia for starters?”

Reeves shakes his head before grinning. “There’s no president sir. We’ve decentralized, just like you wanted. Each state, each country is autonomous again. There’s a president in every nation, and all the nations fall under the Utopian Confederacy.” He smiles like the star student delivering an oral report. “With the Great Patriarch as the head of the Confederate Parliament.”

Charles sighs and rests his head on the doorjamb of his closet. “That is a unitary system. Not a confederacy. The Great Patriarch has made himself Queen of England.”

Reeves looks aghast from the comparison. “No, sir! We’ve thought of all that. He holds a position at the head of the parliament, not power over the individual states.”

“A position,” starts Charles as he puts on his jacket, “That he will never come down from. That creates policy for all the states in the confederacy, and controls all the powers of the presidents governing in his name. Right?”

Reeves blushes, “You should like one of those magazines. They’re all loons and naysayers, sir. They don’t understand… I mean it was _your_ plan. You laid everything out for us.”

Charles shakes his head, sitting down and putting on his shoes, “I called for decentralization. I asked for the Great Patriarch to step down after elections. Did he do that?”

“No… but the war with Russia...”

“What bloody war!” Charles throws his shoe at the poor man.

Reeves dodges him and stands up, pointing a finger awkwardly at his boss. “You started it sir. Remember?”

Charles puts his head in his hands and sighs again. Things aren’t looking any better. But at least his son is alive. “Get out, Mr. Reeves. I’ll go to breakfast on my own.”

“But my briefing sir,” the man protests. “And I have to show you to Mrs. Xavier’s residence.”

“Residence,” Charles sits up and looks at him with a confused face. “I know the way to my mother’s rooms. It’s not a residence.”

Mr. Reeves eyes shift from side to side as he backs out of the bedroom, “There’s been some construction to the palace sir. I could show you where your new rooms are…”

Charles throws his other shoe and the man beats a hasty retreat out the door.

 

Charles feels bad about his behavior a second later. None of this is Mr. Reeves’ fault. He gets up and steels himself in front his mirror. He’s not certain of anything anymore.

“Take your time,” he tells himself in the mirror. “Investigate. Play along. Move when it’s necessary. Strike when it’s time. Act appropriate.” His reflection seems to agree with him so he finds his shoes and finally leaves his room. The doors are all open now. He can move around the palace unimpeded. The halls are busy now. Attendants and staff running the halls. He passes a group of architects as they rush toward the Great Hall.

There’s no one from Darwin’s guard positioned anywhere. In fact, he realizes, there’s no military force in the palace at all. He doesn’t see a single man or woman in uniform all the way to his mother’s old rooms.

He stops when finds the way corded off for construction.

“The new ballroom,” Charles turns to see Erik standing behind him. He’s wearing an all-black suit. He makes a striking figure, tall and beautiful. He smiles down at Charles, “The old ballroom had better evening light. It’s more flattering apparently. Your mother claimed it for her residence. She’s built up a little mansion over there.”

Charles turns his back on the man, “How did this happen? And why the fuck are you here?”

Erik gets close enough for Charles to feel his breath on the back of his neck. “I wanted to be near you again. I have that and all that was promised me thanks to your false god. We can be together now, Charles. On top of the whole world.”

Charles turns around gives Erik an ugly look, scowling as he looks down his nose at the man. “Together? You’re a dog now, Erik. And you stood by as your master just…” he breaks off with a sob. He tries turns back around and takes a few steps, “I’m too tired for this. I think I have long day ahead of me. Please, just go away.”

Erik circles around to the front of him. Charles can’t bring himself to stop the man. The one constant in his life, he thinks. Erik Lehnsherr loves him to the point of obsession. Its idolatry. And if that’s not a weapon primed to be used, he don’t know what is. He lets Erik touch his face before pulling away.

“I mean it. Please. Just leave me alone,” he walks away quickly and bumps into a few people on the way to his mother’s new rooms.

There he finds Lucas on the floor, playing with his toy soldiers. The boy looks at him with a frown. “You’re not going to hug me again are you?”

Charles laughs, “No. My love… I don’t understand. I thought I lost you.”

Lucas shrugs. “I know. That’s what Grandmother said. I mean Mrs. Xavier.   She said she thought I was gone forever and ever. But I was just like you. Asleep. Waiting for the Great Patriarch to call me for my true purpose.” He looks at Charles, his face more like Moira’s than Charles remembered. “I’m the real heir, he said. He told the whole world that. So all the pretenders have to come to Gray City and acknowledge me soon. Or else,” he smiles. “I can’t wait for my next birthday.   It’s going to be fantastic, Daddy. I asked for a pony and he gave me a horse! I can have anything I want, now.” He goes back to his toys, “Can we name a city after Mom? I want to name Moscow, Moira. Moira, Russia. How’s that?”

Charles nods along. He’s proud of himself for not falling apart again. “That’s lovely darling. But I think the Russian’s might not let us change the name.”

Lucas knocks all of his soldiers over, “But it won’t matter after we burn it down, will it Daddy?”

Charles almost stumbles from the words, “I rather not do something so drastic, Lucas.”

Lucas looks up at him coldly, “Get with it, Dad. You are his sword. What’s the point in being a blunt instrument?” He stands up, leaving his toys all over the floor. “I already ate,” he snaps off before heading for the door.

Charles thinks his baby boy looks almost a head taller. He shouldn’t be so tall. Aren’t four year olds supposed to be smaller and less… bloodthirsty? Blunt instrument. Charles frowns at the wording and quickly crosses over to his son, shaking his shoulders. “Who are you really?”

Lucas removes his hand, this time with an incredible strength. He looks his father in the eye, “I am Lucas Xavier. I don’t have to answer to anyone. Not even you.”

“Oh baby, don’t start that…” slurs Sharon. She walks in with a glass in hand. “He’s been so priggish since he woke up. He’s been spoiled rotten, that one.” She stumbles to a table and slouches. “Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Charles is happy to see her alive. He goes to her and kneels at her feet. Kissing her hands and laying his head her lap. She laughs at him but he stays there, despite the smell of stale alcohol and Chanel perfume. Her new residence has heavy wood furnishings, dark panels and muted paint. It’s like she’s carrying Westchester in her back pocket. This receiving room opens to the outside, where he can see a new garden blooming with her favorite flowers.

She pushes him away and snaps her fingers, “Honey, I want you meet someone. She’s lovely. A bit in ‘the family way’, but lovely.” She calls out to the garden, “Come in here dear and meet Charles.”

Charles stands up as the girl that follows Max Xorn around comes inside. She is round with child, but she doesn’t have the glow he’s heard most pregnant women obtain. She looks hollowed out, skinny cheeks and big sad eyes. She tries to offer Charles a clumsy curtsy before he has time to stand up and greet her.

She covers her mouth with one hand, and then apologizes. “Morning sickness. I’ve been unwell lately. You’ll have to excuse me for not being my best.”

Charles tries to control his emotions. Everything that’s happened to this poor girl is his fault, he reasons. She wouldn’t have been victimized by Erik if he had just followed through and killed the man back in the Hellfire club. He offers her a tight smile, thinking of how alike she is to the gray woman he couldn’t save. “Charles Xavier. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says walking up to her and offering a hand. “Let me assure you Miss, that you look radiant this morning.” He gives her his best charming smile, trying not to traumatize her further.

“Magda Xorn.” She smiles brightly, “I’m the Great Judge’s wife.”

Charles cocks his head, “Great Judge? Do you mean Erik?” He looks back at his mother. “I’d like a long conversation with someone about all this…”

Sharon raises her hands to her temples, seemingly pained by a headache. “I can’t right now, baby. Mummy’s a bit tucked in.”

“Grandmother’s hungover,” chimes Lucas from the floor.

That pulls an awkward laugh from Magda, “Mrs. Xavier is a true lady. But her responsibilities leave her stressed. She may have over-indulged last night.”

Charles looks back his mother and sees her trying to get up. He goes to help her, but she waves him away. “I’m fine. I’m going to go lie down before the conference. Make sure you wear something blue, baby. It always brings out your eyes. And take off that ugly suit. It doesn’t even fit you properly.” She goes up a flight of stairs, presumably to her new bedroom on the second floor.

Magda smiles before giving him another odd curtsy, “I’d like to lie down as well. Another time Mr. Xavier.” She tries to follow Sharon but Lucas finally gets up from the floor.

“Don’t forget,” he says giving her mean smile, “You’re not invited to the conference. Stay inside and keep out of sight when the cameras are on. Uncle Erik doesn’t want to be seen with you right now.” He looks over his shoulder and stage whispers, “It’s not his baby!”

“Lucas,” chides Charles. “That is rude! Apologize at once to this young woman!”

Lucas smirks, ignoring his father as he pushes past the girl to get out the door and go in the garden.

Charles stares after his son with his mouth hanging open. He stammers as he addresses Magda, “I… I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He was never… he’s not usually a rude little… little…”

Magda ducks her head, “Growing pains. My mother said little boys test their boundaries. I’m praying every day for a girl.” She pats her belly and smiles at Charles. “Thank you for being so considerate, Mr. Xavier. You’re a fine gentleman. Just as Sharon said.” She blushes and hurries upstairs before Charles can reply.

He shakes his head and leaves without eating anything.

Just outside the door, Hank is waiting with a bouquet of flowers. “Charles! You’re awake!”

Charles doesn’t register his own arm as it swings and his fist connects with Hank’s face. He’s left with blurry afterimage burned behind his eyelids as he huddles on the floor. He stays down there while Hank sputters and sniffles a few feet away. When Charles looks up at his old friend, the younger man sits nearby, his head tilted up and blood streaming down his face. The flowers are all over the place, some petals caught in Hank’s hair. The man looks at Charles with confusion written on his face.

Charles gets up without saying a word to him.

He hurries back to his room, feeling overwhelmed by all the changes.

He finds the Great Patriarch wearing Tessa’s face in the sitting room, standing near the bedroom doors.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	27. Silk and Obi

 Gray City, Utopia October 1967

 

Charles closes the doors to his rooms and leans back on them. “Anymore revelations? Are there any more surprises or shocks to give me today? Honestly, I’m a little worn out at this point.”

En Sabah Nur gives him that slow smile again. The one that Charles should have been wary of from the beginning. Instead he trusted this creature. He loved him, in a way. He believed. And now every trauma and nightmare he’s ever faced is eclipsed by the living devil that has possessed his friends, his family, and his whole world.

Charles still feels weak after waking up. He still can’t access his own powers but he feels the Great Patriarch gently nudging at his mind. Telling him to just trust. Asking for his obedience.

“Don’t be frightened, my child.”

Charles shakes his head violently and raises a shaking hand, pointing his finger. “Don’t ever call me that again. Don’t call me ‘son’. _Don’t_ wear my father’s face. Don’t… Don’t pretend you love me at all. You took all of my hope and trust last night and you smashed it to pieces!”

The Great Patriarch sighs, “Oh my starlight…”

“Don’t!”

“I must. You have to understand. I did you a favor last night. You woke up in a new world. One where you are now truly a sovereign. No more bowing or scraping or pretending, Charles. Last night, we assured that the one person capable of still compromising you would always know who you really belonged to. Do you think I let the Archangel touch you out of spite? It was to show Magneto that you are no longer a toy for his whimsy. You will do as you please. You do as I order you to. Beyond that, he no longer has a claim on you.   Don’t you see, child?”

Charles shakes his head as he sobs, “No. I don’t see anything. But a liar and a rapist.”

The god changes shape, taking what Charles assumes is his real form. The young blue skinned man with black lips, this time wearing only a then pair of linen pants. He walks over slowly to where Charles is trembling by the doors. He stops and stretches out a hand, gently touching Charles on the shoulder. “I get no pleasure from hurting you Charles. But the key to your strength is your ability to adapt to your pain. Even your mutation.” He smiles as his hand falls away. “You are like a baby bird. Once you are pushed out of the nest you…”

“Climb back up with a knife,” bites off Charles. “What do you think I’ll do this time?”

The god laughs, “Something beautiful. I see so much potential in you my Red Horse. I promise you, now.” He steps away, with his hands raised. “There will never be another demonstration of our union. You are consort in name only to protect us both. I have had so many wives and consorts. So many children. They have all disappointed me in one way or another. Now I have you. I name you consort. Your only son, is my heir. All the others before you must recognize this, and there will be no one after.”

Charles stays still as En Sabah Nur leans in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“I promise to never force myself on you again. Perhaps you will return my love as time goes on.” He backs away, and reaches behind Charles for the door. He adds, “Your powers will return in time. In the meantime, I want you to remember that you asked for this. I have given you everything you ever wanted, Charles. I still have such wonders to share with you.” He lets himself out as Charles slides over.

He’s left to process the man’s words in his own time.

It takes all of two minutes for him decide that the Great Patriarch is lying. Another two minutes for him decide on fighting this. He feels another gentle nudge on his mind and tries to block it. He feels an impression of amusement but keeps trying anyway.   The voices that gave him strength earlier tell him to calm down and rest. He goes into his bedroom to find a cart of food. He ignores it, and simply tucks himself into bed. Charles sleeps on Logan’s side, his face in Logan’s pillow.

 

Later, Charles wakes up to music.

“My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble…”

He sits up to the sound of The Angels clapping along with the catchy song. Ambrose’s voice raises above the record and Charles hears the clattering of hangers in the next room. He wishes he could stay in bed and further process his position in all this. But he gets up, still in a wrinkled brown suit and with tousled hair.

Ambrose stops dancing along to look at him, “I have so much work to do.”

Charles is no position to disagree.

After an hour of being combed, pressed, and stuck like a pincushion Charles is dressed in what Ambrose deems as appropriate attire. Ambrose chatters on at turns annoyed by Charles and others happy. “You are so cute I could just squeeze you to death!” Charles is at the end of rather inhumanly strong embrace. Ambrose lets up to cluck at him, “Stand up straight!” Ambrose switches form before his eyes, adopting the look a man with a slight but well-groomed beard. “Like a gentlemen,” he says with a much deeper voice.

Charles is still fascinated with other mutations. He reaches out to touch the hair on Ambrose’s face, “Could you always do that?”

Ambrose slaps his hand away, but smiles, “No. The Great Patriarch has blessed my gift. Now I can be whatever I want, like Ms. Raven.”

Charles is happy to see Ambrose happy, but he’s concerned about this so-called blessing. He lets Ambrose finish dressing him. He ends up dressed in rich blue robes. He called it a kimono and Ambrose pinched him for it. His hair is parted over his ears, the top half pulled up into surprisingly fluffy bun. Charles is left standing up on an ottoman, staring at three mirrors.

“I look like a geisha,” he frowns at his reflection from every angle. Thinking the look is better suited for fancy dress than some sort political conference.

“OH!” Ambrose bends over another cart, “I didn’t even think of makeup! And your lips are already so _red_!”

Charles starts to protest for what little dignity he has left, when the doors open.

 

Erik and a small team of men he’s never seen before blow in. Erik frowns at Ambrose, “Who the fuck are you?”

Ambrose gasps, “Great Judge Xorn! What are you doing here?”

Erik’s men are apparently tailors. They push out Ambrose’s carts and racks and bring in their own things. Erik grabs Ambrose by the arm and pushes him out the door, “I’m going to make sure Charles looks appropriate. I don’t want the press thinking this is a time for frivolity. We only have two more hours to work with.” He closes the doors and instructs his men to strip Charles back down.

Charles raises his hand, daring anyone to touch him, “No! That’s enough for today. I will dress myself, however I see fit. I am not a doll!” He climbs down from the ottoman and ignores the look Erik gives him as he gathers up the train of his robes, “Everyone out! Especially you!” He indicates Erik and turns his back on the room as he goes into the bedroom.

Erik follows him, of course. He laughs, “You rather go out in front of the cameras dressed like that?” He smiles looking down at Charles’s bare feet, then slowly dragging his gaze upwards. “You’ll certainly make the cover of every magazine. I collect those, by the way. You’re good in front of the camera.”

“Shut up, Erik.” Charles moves to his closet, but doesn’t risks changing in front of Erik. “Get out and leave me alone. Great Judge… pfft.” He shakes his head while going through his things, “How on earth did you win that title? Has everyone taken up LSD or something? Is this world some sort of mass illusion?”

Erik tilts his head and scratches his chin, “My Father did an interesting experiment on our army once…”

“No,” says Charles. “I don’t want to hear any funny stories about Shaw and your evil-doing childhood. Just…” He stops himself as a voice in his head directs his attention toward the bottom of the closet. Logan’s bag has disappeared since this morning. “Odd,” he says aloud and bends down to inspect the empty. “Odd that they would take that now.”

“What,” says Erik as steps closer to Charles and looks into the closet. “What are we staring at?”

“Nothing,” he says. He smiles as he thinks he smells something like wood and cigars in the air. “Nothing at all.”

Charles rises to his feet and Erik looks down at him, then pointedly at the bed. “It’s my birthday today, Charles. I’m thirty-eight years old.”

Charles sighs and pushes past him, “Mazel Tov, Erik. I don’t see why I should give a damn.”

“Because your loving god is throwing me party this weekend. But first we have to re-introduce you as the Great Sword.” He grins, “Dramatic isn’t he?”

“You’ve no place to talk, darling.” Charles says. It’s scary how easy it’s always been to talk to Erik. When the man isn’t being a terror, they sound like old friends. He spent so long playing house with Erik, that they almost sound like an old married couple. He tries to put it out of mind. “I see you’ve lost your mask, Max. I met your wife earlier. The poor child.”

Erik shrugs, “She’ll be fine. I think the Archangel is keeping an eye on her and honestly what is probably his little brother or sister. I didn’t do any lasting damage.” He gives Charles a big smile, “The press barely tolerates her for some reason. They think I can do better. They might remember when I had you on my arm, somehow in their subconscious minds. En Sabah Nur had my face erased from history, and I get to start again as Max Xorn. But every now and then some idiot calls me Erik.”

Charles crosses his arms and keeps his distance from Erik. He goes back to the door, opening it and peering out to see the team of obnoxious tailors pulling out yards of red and black fabric. He sighs and closes the door. “You got your pardon then. And it’s that girl who can do better. She deserves better. You’ve done nothing but torment her since you’ve met.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “You know that and I know that, but she remains oblivious. It’s like having a puppy. Or a barnacle. I was glad to have Shiro back after they put you down. At least he’s useful.” Charles doesn’t like the smug look on Erik’s face as the man moves towards the bed and sits down, patting it. “Come here, Charles. I won’t bite. This is your room. I can be respectful in your space, remember?” He sits up straighter looking at Charles for some kind of reward.

Charles feels his stomach flip in revulsion, his nose crinkles as he opens the door. “If you call not fucking me every moment in Prague, ‘respectful’ then you can leave right now. In fact, leave anyway. You’re the last person I wanted to see today.”

Erik sighs at the dismissal, ignoring Charles and laying out on the bed. With his shoes on. “I think you’re tired. Come here and let me help you out of those ridiculous clothes.”

“No!” Charles yanks the door back open. The men outside stare at the scene inside the room. “Get out!”

They take it to mean them, and they all filter out the main doors. Charles throws his hands up.

Erik has the nerve to laugh, “So commanding. Our Sword.” He toes off his shoes and kick them off the bed, “Did you make it to Sharon this morning? She’s a real piece of work, your mother. I scraped off Magda and told her to assist her ladyship.” He smiles, “She went for it completely.” He looks around the space, “I’m glad you’re keeping to these rooms. Easier to find you unoccupied this way.”

Charles feels like a pot boiling over, he’s so angry. He sure he’s flushed red at this point, so he shouts, “Unoccupied! Is that your way of saying you don’t mind sloppy seconds, Erik! It wasn’t even a twelve hours ago that you left me to that…. And now you don’t mind enough for a romp in my bed! Tough, Erik. I am all sore after serving your god last night!”

“My god,” Erik quotes while scowling on the bed. “I never said he was _my_ god,” corrects Erik. “I can’t tolerate the thing. I am Max Xorn now. Celebrated hero who found hundreds of mutants being experimented on by Worthington Industries. It was enough to get Erik Lehnsherr a full pardon. The whole world knows he gave me back my powers. The whole world knows I am grateful to be in his service…”

He sits up on his elbows and Charles thinks he imagines unshed tears in his eyes.

“Just come here, Charles. We were collaborating long before they went through with their plan, remember? We were going to bring down a titan. We shouldn’t be fighting each other on this.” He sits up and swings his feet over the edge, “We should work together, Charles.”

 

Charles backs away into the door, sliding down it. He looks up at Erik and hopes for once he isn’t crying. “I’m lost, Erik. I’m drowning and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing you can do to make this better.” He pulls his knees up and starts sobbing, hiding his face with end of the robes.

Erik gets off the bed and tugs the robes until Charles looks up. He gives Charles a sad smile before taking one of the younger man’s hands and pulling it to his face. He kisses Charles’s fingertips and whispers, “I didn’t want to swear allegiance to another Shaw. I wanted to make my own place in the world. I want you by my side in it. That will never change. And all of this drowning…” He bites the tip of Charles index finger making the younger man flinch. He smiles as nibbles his way down the finger and back up again. “You don’t have to swim against the water, Charles. Go with it. I’ve learn how to patient under a cruel teacher… and you learned under me.” He almost looks ashamed. Or whatever passes for ashamed in Erik’s head. “We can be patient together now. And bring down the new titan when its time.”

Charles tries to pull away but Erik holds on. He pull Charles arm up, letting the sleeves slide down his arm so he can kiss the exposed wrist. Charles hates feeling anything for the man, but it’s there all the same. He warns Erik, “En Sabah Nur is watching me. He said you can’t touch me anymore. You don’t have his permission.”

Erik raises a brow before smirking. He opens his mouth and goes down on Charles’s index finger, sucking hard for a quick moment before he lets go. He pulls Charles’s hand to his chest and strokes the back of the younger man’s fingers with his free hand. “He told me the same thing more or less. With one addendum. That you can have whatever _you_ want.”

Charles’s breathe catches in throat. Erik doesn’t move fast, giving him plenty of time to object or move away. He sits still while the older man parts the silk over his knees and runs his long fingers down to Charles’s bare thighs. Charles watches, as the voices in his head boo at the turn of events. He imagines an audience throwing popcorn at the screen. But he can’t seem to care. Not when Erik already knows his body. Exactly how to touch and where and for how long to drive him mad with wanting. Charles shudders as Erik rucks up the silk tied around his waist, reaches back to grab a handful of his ass.

Charles gasps and that switches something on in Erik. He launches forward, kissing Charles hard on the mouth. He uses both hands to start untying the obi-like sash. Once he has Charles front bare he backs away to look at his handiwork, licking his lips. “Look at you, Charles. I don’t know where to start with you.”

Charles lets his head fall back against the door as Erik starts mouthing his neck and collarbones. He doesn’t even bother with being quiet. He moans and writhes, half-hoping En Sabah Nur is looking on and rethinking his choices. Surely no one this wanton is worthy of a God’s misplaced affections. He feels almost desperate to have Erik’s cock at this point. Why would anyone want him after? How did Logan put up with this? His mind wanders as his body goes on autopilot, rocking into Erik’s hand as the other man grips his hardening cock.

Erik suddenly grunts and manages to lift Charles, sliding him up the door while he repositions them. Charles is spread out around Erik, his legs askew while Erik quickly undoes the front of his pants. He kisses Charles everywhere there’s bare skin. His chest, his arms, his neck, and back to that wrist. He bites down hard, before sucking a very red mark into Charles’s skin. He smirks at the younger man he uses one hand to steady Charles against the door and slips the fingers of his other into Charles’s mouth.

Charles sucks eagerly, knowing how he’d prefer to be taken. When he’s sure he’ll be wet enough he lets go to quickly kiss Erik, “Don’t blame me when he sets your brain on fire.”

Erik stretches him and smiles, “I blame you for everything. It’s all your fault. Everything that’s ever happened to me… but that’s okay. I love you, Charles.” He kisses Charles before pulling his fingers out, lifting Charles while lines up his cock. “I love you more than anything in this whole world. Even my own life.”

Charles would love to ignore Erik as he wax poetic, but that little declaration is important. The voices in his head scream at him to ‘remember’ and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to remember this time. He never forgot what it feels like to be stretched by Erik’s cock. He’s annoyed to think that all that happy, consenting sex he had with Logan pales in comparison to this, whatever it is. He shrugs his way out of one the sleeves, feeling overheated by the silk. Erik attacks that bare shoulder with his teeth as he starts thrusting upwards.

Ambrose is going to be so cross about the robes, thinks Charles. Erik has no problem shucking the all the cloth off. He reaches up and undoes the ridiculous bun grinning as he bumps his forehead against Charles’s.

“Don’t…” says Charles and Erik listens not teasing him for it. Instead he lays Charles out on the floor, amongst all the blue finery.

“I’ll have to call my tailors back…” He grunts as he shoves his cock back into Charles’s hole. “You still,” he stops to shudder and pulls to grip himself at the base of his cock. “Fuck. You’ve already undone me.” He laughs and leans in to kiss Charles while taking the younger man’s cock in hand. “Let me even the playing field.”

“Shut up, Erik.” Charles thinks of this as itch. And it needs to be dealt with now before he goes out before the public, probably paraded on the Great Patriarch’s arm. Erik pumps him quickly and Charles almost too distracted to notice the stretch of his body around the blunt head of Erik’s cock. It slams back in and Charles lets out a loud groan.

Erik covers his mouth and starts rocking gently. “Shh, before we are caught. You want me to be roasted before you come?” He smirks.

Charles rides on multiple sensations. Hating Erik. Wanting to come. Hating the Great Patriarch. Wanting to come. Perhaps if he thinks hard enough, En Sabah Nur will get the message and roast Erik _after_ he comes.

Charles spurs the man on, but Erik keeps going at his own pace. Slowly. Gently. Its too much like what he had with Logan, thinks Charles. Too much like that happy sex that the man tried to heal him with. Charles doesn’t want that. Not with Erik.

He leans up to bite Erik on the neck and that does the trick. The in and out becomes more punishing. Charles arches his back and closes his eyes. Relishes in the feeling of finally being fucked.

_“Did I not please you, my Starlight?”_

Charles sees the black-lip smile behind his eyelids, it’s a shocks just he comes between their bodies.

Erik keeps going while Charles has shaken through his own climax. His body is a mess as he is suddenly paralyzed with fear. He opens his eyes as Erik keeps thrusting. The man is near coming now that he’s seen Charles get off. Charles turns his head to the side and Erik bites what will be more bruises into his jaw and neck. Ambrose will have to get the makeup out after all, he thinks.

Erik is near coming when he puts his hands around Charles’s neck.

Charles gasps, seeing a different a floor beneath them. A turned over exam table. The bloody head of Edie Lehnsherr. One side of the room, then the other.

Charles screams and Erik finally listens.


	28. Red Birthday Banner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik's POV

 Gray City, Utopia October 1967

 

This is not what he expected.

Charles is a convulsing mess on the floor. His eyes rolled back and the noise, oh god, thinks Erik. He worries he squeezed too hard and has broken something. Wasn’t Charles completely healed? “Daniel!” Erik stops as he gets up, remembering that the traitor signed his own death sentence. The idiot. He does up his pants and kneels back down, careful to not touch Charles’s neck or head.

Charles shakes and seizes on the floor. Erik tilts him to the side in case he vomits. This is not at all what he expected, Erik thinks again. He thought at this point there’d be spooning. He thought he’d erase all the damage done between them. Instead he’s broken something and Charles is back to being crippled. He could hardly contain himself the whole time Charles was last in a wheelchair.   Never mind the repercussions he can expect from the false god. The thing told him he could fuck Charles, if Charles said yes. They were all in agreement. Charles agreed and then this happened.

“Stop being so hysterical!” He shakes Charles’s shoulder in a panic, “Please, recover yourself! Control yourself, Charles! Wake up!”

Charles doesn’t respond, only the whites of his eyes visible as he starts to foam at the mouth.

“Fuck!” Erik has to leave him to get help, but he’s not sure who to tell. He pounds the floor near Charles’s head in frustration as he makes his mind up to go get McCoy.

 

 It doesn’t take long for Charles to be carted off to McCoy’s lab. Erik had tried to clean up the mess they made, covered his tracks for what it’s worth. McCoy still glared at him as he backed Charles out of the room on a gurney.

Erik sighs when they’re all gone, the stress finally breaking in him. He goes to the bed and lies back down, wondering what they’ll do about the conference if Charles isn’t better in time. Then he remembers the suit and fittings. Charles should have matched him and the other horsemen, he thought. They were supposed to present a united front, standing just behind the false god as he gave Charles his title and declared war on the rest of the world.

Erik slumps against the headboard thinking this is the worst birthday he’s ever had.

“ _Hardly_ ,” corrects the false god in his head.

“Don’t start that, you fucking bastard!” He shouts at thin air, knowing the mutant is nearby. “You set me up! Now Charles will never let me touch him again!”

_“Good. He should have learned this lesson long ago. Nothing good can come of you two conspiring against me.”_

“Fuck off, I’m not in the mood to be chastised.” Erik folds his arms and pretends he can’t hear any of the words being pushed into his head.

_“Such children. The both of you are indeed a match. So petulant and stubborn. You can’t recall how you hurt the things you love? How you learned to be so indelicate in the first place. I feel ice still surrounds your memories. Would you like them back?”_

“I said fuck of—“ Erik falls over the side of the bed as something in his head cracks. Charles was right, he thinks. The false god is going set his brain on fire.

The pain melts away and Erik is back to viewing scenes he half experienced or remembered before.

  

_Ruth dresses a doll in Shaw’s old office. She’s gained a little weight since their escape. Not like Erik, though. She’s pale and her eyes are little jaundiced from her anemia. She looks up at Erik while he does classwork. Shaw wants him to speak Spanish fluently so Erik is learning their alphabet first. He used to practice while sitting at Shaw’s desk. Ruth is still a baby so she doesn’t have any work._

_He looks over to where she’s holding a red dress and trying to sew on a button. He smirks at her before moving the needle with his powers, sewing the little button back on perfectly. She looks at him with a grateful smile, now mostly empty space since she’s lost several teeth at the same time. “Thank you, Maggi.”_

_He nods at her continues his work._

_Papa comes in, the room looking between his children. “Get up, we’re leaving.”_

_Erik frowns, “Why? I’m not finished my homework.”_

_Papa picks up Ruth, “Now Erik. We don’t have time to waste. I found a car and I want you two outside now while I get your mother. Come on, hurry.”_

_Erik gets up and follows his father. The mansion they’re hiding in is vast. He stops just outside the kitchen doors, remembering Krakow. His parents don’t always know what’s best after all. If they had listened to him, they wouldn’t have suffered. Erik stops moving like he did on the rooftops of the ghetto. “Papa, wait!”_

_Ruth sucks on her thumb nervously. She looks sleepy and Erik can’t figure out why his father would want to take them away. In the cold Austrian air, she’ll get sick. “We can’t leave. It’s safe here. Why are you trying to get us killed?”_

_Papa reaches out and pulls him by the shirt, “Come on and get the car, Erik. We don’t have time for this. I still have to get your mother back.”_

_“No, comrade that’s far enough.” They all stop and turn to face Azazel. He waves a finger at them all. “The boy is right. It’s safe here. You’re making a big mistake exposing yourself and that malá myška. You’ll both be sick in that air.”_

_Erik nods along agreeing. He pulls away as he father glares at Azazel. “Papa stop being stubborn. You’ll get us all killed, being a coward!” He stamps his foot and marches back to Shaw’s office ignoring his father as he calls him back._

_That night Shaw came into his bedroom with a little box. He brushed Erik’s hair and give him a good night kiss, “Don’t open that until morning. It’s a wonderful surprise.” He poked Erik in the middle of his nose before leaving. Erik resisted temptation for what felt like hours. He looked at his clock to see only twenty minutes had passed._

_He reached over and opened the little box, hoping for more chocolates or gold coins._

_Instead he found a picture of his mother, round in the belly. She looked young, he thought. Maybe too young but Erik’s sure he’s the baby. He grins down at the photo wondering how Shaw saved it. It must have been in their house before the soldiers came. Knowing something of theirs has survived makes his heart feel warm. He gets up and leaves his room, hoping to share this gift with his mother._

_He finds his parents door locked. Erik frowned at that and pressed his ear to the door. He heard moaning and grunting and quickly backed away. He almost forgotten his parents could do that and at the time he blushed as he ran back to his room._

_The next morning he presented his mother with the gift at the breakfast table. She was so overwhelmed by it she started crying. Ruth had marveled at it and asked where babies come from. Erik blushed, brazenly telling her they might have a new brother or sister soon enough. He grinned at his mother but she didn’t return his humor. She kept on crying and crying until Shaw came to the table. He went straight to Mama and put his big hands on her shoulder._

_“I see you’ve already heard the sad news. I’m so sorry, Edie. I wish we had better doctors here.” He kisses her on the head before sitting at the head of the table. Papa’s chair conspicuously empty._

_Erik frowns up at his benefactor, “What has happened, Herr Schmidt?”_

_The man snaps out a napkin as he settles before his meal. “I’m afraid you Papa went outside in the cold last night Erik. He got sick and quickly passed away. I’m very sorry for your lost.” He starts to eat and Erik felt all the air leave his body. Ruth is blubbering mess and Mama is still crying._

_He shakes his head, “He was fine yesterday. He was running up and down the halls. I don’t know where he wanted to go but he was fine, sir. He was just fine!”_

_Schmidt narrows his eyes at them, “Appearances can be deceiving. You were all in poor health after what the humans did to you, Erik. He’s been unhealthy for a long time. I’m afraid it finally caught up with him. My medical doctors were too far away to help with the crisis this morning.”_

_Ruth ran out of the room crying. Mama got up to follow her. Erik remembers how he stayed at table and stared down at Schmidt in the aftermath of his unbelievable story._

_The man checks his pocket watch before addressing Erik again, “How would you like a new playmate Erik? I want you to meet one of my other students. She’s been dying to get to know you.” He looks at the doorway and shakes his head, “I’ll have to call my doctors back soon. I don’t like the look of your sister, Erik. She not very active for a child that age. Humans are so vulnerable to elements.”_

  

Erik comes to on the floor, the truth of what really happened in that ice laden castle ringing clear in his mind. He shakes his head and tries to put it behind him. This isn’t news, he tells himself. It’s just another telepath trying to fuck with his head.

He gets up and goes to check on Charles.

The halls are quiet and still. Erik checks his watch and sees he’s already five minutes late for the conference. Reporters and world leaders will already be gathering inside the Great Hall. He turns into his own rooms to change into something more appropriate. He finds another black suit. One with a mandarin collar to hide the obvious bruising on his neck. After combing back his hair he hurries back to the Great Hall. The rooms behind it are for them to gather and prepare between presentations. He still puts on the mask Max Xorn wears, unsure of how many minds the false god can control at once.

Erik and the false God have rebuilt much of the palace. There are five rooms are connected but offer each horseman privacy and office space. He would have rather have it uniform, but his own room is spare and sleek. The false god’s is a marble disaster and Warren’s is surprisingly nouveau-riche. There’s a tree and an open ceiling in the earth goddess’s room. Erik liked the natural lighting so much he enlisted the false god’s help in putting a glass dome over the Great Hall.

He comes in just in time to see N’Dare and Warren gathering in their entryway to the Great Hall. N’Dare wears a white and green dress, her hair loose and spilling behind her in curls. Warren wears a suit of grey with a bright yellow tie. How his handlers get him dressed, Erik has no idea.

Warren sneers at him, “I can’t believe you did that so soon after the union. Have you no fucking shame, you damn animal!”

N’Dare stares forward. She rarely speaks her mind and the false god keeps her thoughts closed off for these little demonstrations. Erik teases Warren. “Charles asked me,” he starts while looking at the cuff of his right arm. “He wasn’t content with that weak performance. He said he needed me,” Erik says with a smirk.

Warren’s skin changes, his illusion of pink skin he wears fading away. He looks like death now, blue-gray and terrifying to some with those metal wings.

To Erik, he looks like a giant toy. He merely flicks his fingers at the clockwork array that makes ups Warren’s appendages.

N’Dare stops them from starting a fight, “Enough. Apocalypse calls for us.” She opens the doors and marches into the Great Hall. They step up to the new dais he finished this morning. Five thrones in v-formation, rising up the steps of their little pyramid. At the top, is En Sabah Nur’s throne. Directly below that, is Charles’s and N’Dare’s. Below that is Erik’s and Warren’s.

He walks over to his own seat and stands in front of as the others do the same. They wait as the room quiets, a few shutters going off to take their pictures. One reporter rudely speaks into a microphone, narrating the event. Erik crushes it and leaves the stupid woman stuttering.

 

Erik looks at the crowd, resisting the urge to look back and see if Charles is okay.

In a theatrical twist they come in through the main doors marching up to the thrones. En Sabah Nur follows Charles, wearing a deep violet robes, his hands behind his back. He looks very pleased with himself. Charles wears a red suit, and marches ahead. He does so with such precision, that Erik expects him to be on puppet strings like N’Dare. He’s shocked when Charles comes to a stop in front of him. His eyes are clear and he gives the crowd a warm smile. He even breaks decorum to give one the reporters a shy wave. He’s as charming as the press remembers and the shutters go off instantly.

The false god marches up to the steps, laying a heavy hand on Charles shoulder before climbing up to his own seat. “I introduce, the fourth High Councilman of the Utopian Confederacy. Charles Francis Xavier. The Great Sword.”

Charles follows him, sparing Erik a small glance as he stands before his throne. They all sit after the false god opens the floor for questions. The young man Charles waved to earlier takes the first one, “Charles… I mean Great Sword.” He smiles and Charles looks at him fondly, “I am so happy to see you fully recovered. We were all so scared for you after the attack. May I ask how you are feeling?”

Charles nods, “Yes. Thank you, Aaron. I’m in fine spirits. I’m happy to see my real friends have survived the upset. I’m happy to have my son again.” He looks up at the false god, “I’m thankful for the blessings the Great Patriarch has bestowed on me. And the camaraderie of my new council.” He eyes N’Dare and puts his hand over his heart. “I’m especially thankful to have so much that I thought was lost restored to me. And to have all of you here to witness it.”

There is thunderous applause for Charles’s heartfelt answer. But one woman with blue braids in her hair stands up abruptly. “Are you thankful for the war?! And the genocide! My brother is dead, Charles! The world is being culled by that bastard and no one— AH!”

She falls to ground clutching her head and all eyes turn to Charles. He merely smiles and points to another reporter, “Next question. Ah yes, Ms. Salem.” The reporters continue as if nothing is wrong. Erik looks up at Charles and imagines his eyes glow violet like they did when Annaud ran his experiments. He turns away and answers the few questions directed towards him. Their audience is dismissed after the false god reminds them all of Erik’s party on Friday.

 

 

Charles is changed. But not changed. Erik isn’t sure if it’s the Great Patriarch’s influence. He’s not being pulled along or forced to speak like the Earth Goddess. He seems completely normal. He mingles with the press afterwards and speaks to politicians. Erik avoids him, thinking of the reporter. If Charles is still angry, it’s a quiet angry. And Erik rather not be in its way.

That Friday comes with festivities that start early in the morning. Erik has to sit through an interview and takes a few pictures. The mask comes off for the face to face interview. The man will remember meeting handsome Max Xorn, not Erik Lehnsherr. All that time he spent crawling amongst the rabble had almost erased his ability to deal with this. Almost. Erik is sure the silly man asking him questions would gladly drop his pants and bend over the table to let Erik fuck him.

The thought keeps a smile on his face the entire time.

He’s gone without seeing Charles for almost three days. He runs across him leaving Sharon’s residence. Charles pulls Lucas out by the ear and slaps the boy hard across the face. Erik winces in sympathy. But honestly, he thinks. It’s about time.

Charles kneels down to look his son in the eyes, “I will not tolerate your continued rudeness. You will go back out there and apologize to that woman. Or else I will set _you_ on fire.”

The boy gasps and runs away quickly. It’s the first time Erik’s seen him afraid of anyone. “Bravo,” he claps. “Encore.”

“Shut up, Erik.” Charles stands and gives Erik a stern look. “It’s your fault he treats the girl like that.”

Erik shrugs, hoping to mask the little thrill he feels from fearing Charles’s power. The man stands there, looking at Erik with disgust. Erik clears his throat, “I never told him to be a spoiled little shit. He has that naturally.” He raises his eyebrow and smirks at Charles.

The man surprises him and laughs, “I suppose you’re right.”

Erik’s face falls, he’s a little afraid as Charles walks up to him and pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

He feels the warmth of having Charles’s power blanket him and it’s like drinking water in a desert. He has to close his eyes before he can go on to the rest of his business. Erik resets his stoic outer appearance. He’s glad for his mask when the journalists and party-goers arrive later. Erik’s had trouble erasing a somewhat goofy smile from his face since the encounter.

He spends the evening dancing with the wives of businessmen, talking through his mask while making faces, and avoiding Charles. Lucas puts himself to bed after a demonstration of his powers. Warren dazzles some plebeian onlookers outside. N’Dare hides away most of the night. She’s been permitted to have some time with her daughter and stays in her own residence.

En Sabah Nur walks the floors like a king. He gives his approval to the entertainment and keeps Charles on his arm most of the night. Erik thinks of the Glass Rook club and the Hellfire Club. How he wanted everyone to know who Charles belonged to. Before long the sight starts to make his stomach turn.

Charles disappears before the party’s closing. En Sabah Nur excuses himself and the guest leave feeling blessed.

Erik retires to his own rooms, just before two in the morning.

He dreams of Ruth and her dolls and her little toothless smile. The memory of how she died makes him sad and Erik wakes up with tears in his eyes.

He’s surprised to see a shadow falling over his shoulder. He feels disconnected from his body, and can’t move his head. A hand grabs the back of his hair, pushing his face into his pillows. He tries to use his powers, but it doesn’t work. He panics thinking someone in Charles’s old guard finally had the balls to try and assassinate him.

He’s so angry that he doesn’t notice the thump, thump, thump of the headboard.

“Nearly there,” says hoarse voice behind him.

Erik would frown if he had any control of his body. His mind works out what’s happening but his body still doesn’t registers anything. The sight of his own backside is forced into his mind. He recognizes the warmth of Charles’s powers and gasps.

“Chaww..” He tries to speak but no one answers him. “Wat…?”

“Shut up, Erik.”

Erik shuts up and the man continues to use him. It brings tears to Erik’s eyes, feeling stretched. Charles hasn’t spared him any preparation. Still, Erik smiles when he feels his channel flooded with come. Charles pulls out and leaves him there, not bothering to clean Erik. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. He stays put even after control of his body returns.

Finally he thinks, Charles really wants him.


	29. War Horse

 The Hague, Netherlands November 1967

 

Two weeks after waking up to so much change, Charles has established some daily routines to keep himself sane.

First thing in the morning, he goes for a run. Today, he substitutes running around the Gray Palace perimeter for running around South Holland. Charles masks himself as a faceless gray shadow. No one stops to take pictures or ask questions. He runs for almost two hours before returning to the hotel.

He had something of breakthrough, he thinks. If he were seeing a regular psychiatrist he’s sure they’d be proud. He remembers lying under Erik, his mind and body pulled different directions.

_I want this. I don’t want this. Make it stop. I deserve this._

When he was pushed into a memory, floating above his own body watching as the red helmet came down on his face before Erik twisted his neck.

It’s not a pleasant thing to relive from any perspective.

Charles felt his mind shutting down to protect itself. His was thrown out of his body to dissociate from the pain. He found a surprise waiting for him in the space he thinks of his own slice of the Astral Plane. He opened his eyes, not in the familiar study or his library, or anywhere in his family mansion. Instead he stood in front a chalk board, looking at a strange algebraic equation. It was the classroom he taught in Belgium while he was on disability from the Armed Forces.

_“Professor, that’s too hard. Can’t you just quiz us on something easy… like… like Dinah Washington?”_

_Someone throws a balled up piece of paper at the board and Charles has to take deep breath before he turns around. He recognizes all of the voices but the setting is all wrong. This isn’t his class._

_“Earth to Professor X. Like, TV is the Thing This Year.”_

_There’s laughter and shouting and another ball whizzes past his head. Charles finally works up the nerve to turn around._

_There, in the front row being a nuisance about music, is Sean. He’s even younger than Charles remembered. He looks removed from the young soldier Charles knew. He could easily blend in with the crowd that followed Raven around. Beside him sits Angel. She wears a floral sun dress. A little flower behind her ear, the long dark waves of her hair falling over her bare shoulders. She looks pretty and innocent and tiny. Charles never thought about just how young she was. She was only thirteen when Erik pulled her out of service from Shaw’s Hellfire Club, realizing her potential as an assassin early on._

_There’s Eun again. She’s scribbling like mad, dressed in bulky overalls with a cap on her head. She’s taking notes like she’ll solve the problem on the board. Debra Arroz and Amber Kohl, the wing commander and the brick lady. They arm wrestle over one of their desks while Aliya cheers them on._

_Charles watches as Amber turns her arm to stone and pins the pilot down. The whole class erupts. Sean gets out of his seat, “Okay, let’s have a rematch! Who’s got five on Deb?”_

_“I do!”_

_Charles clears his throat, “Settle down, class.”_

_They all laugh. Of course they laugh. This isn’t his class. These are the people he failed. The lives he lost._

_He feels like he did the first time he tried to teach. He had promised himself he wouldn’t use his powers to influence the class. They took one look at him and lost it. In a panic he put a class of twenty teenagers to sleep and wiped their minds of the first day. He feels like he did in that moment. Unprepared and ready to do something drastic. Instead of leaving the class comatose he raps on his desk with a ruler._

_Sean turns around, waving a fistful of bills. “I know you’re good for it, Professor. Who’re you betting on?”_

_Charles covers his eyes, “Not one of you is real. If you would please just disappear.” He sobs not daring to look again, “I would be terribly grateful.”_

_“Oh for god’s sake.”_

_Odd, thinks Charles. That’s wasn’t his own thought but it was his own voice. He opens his eyes to see the memories of his lost comrades gone. Replaced by much younger versions of himself._

 

Charles returns to the hotel where he changes and quickly showers. He gets out of the bathroom to check on Erik. The man lies face down on the bed, where Charles left him.

Good, thinks Charles. He doesn’t want Erik to come to the Peace Palace assembly. Charles and the Great Patriarch are being formally accused of war crimes. The last time he was here, Charles was nervous despite the confidence the Great Patriarch gave him. It took a round of drinks and Logan’s friendship to get him through that ordeal. Logan’s cock may have helped as well, so Charles doesn’t break with pattern. He got drunk and fucked someone, for luck.

 

Now he’s listens to the voices in his head. “ _Five-in-one_ ,” they chant.

One tracks the minds of all the diplomats entering the Palace.  

One tracks the minds of the witnesses and detractors preparing to speak for the prosecutors. The legal teams working for the Allied Forces of Europe and America.

One tracks the citizens, innocent bystanders that just happen to have poor timing. The people hell bent on being in the first row.

One tracks the mutant army being controlled by the Great Patriarch. Their puppet leader is N’Dare near the front lines.

One is helping Charles to actively veil his thoughts, hiding the clones’ existence and propping Charles up all at the same time.

Charles is busy with the little things. Like sticking to his routine. And according to his routine, this is the time of day he should spend being a good parent.

 

Breakfasts with Lucas are more manageable now. They’re together in the hotel’s restaurant and Lucas is behaving. Now that he doesn’t think twice about disciplining his son. The boy is all he has left of Moira. He is determined not to see him rot from the inside out. Turned into a spoiled, kept, princeling and then into a madman. Erik has had some influence on him, claiming to be a long lost uncle. One of the voices in his head sounds suspiciously like Emma. Like the other voices, it actually _sounds_ like his own voice. Same tone, same volume in his head. It’s hard to distinguish one from the other, but he does so. But this one, this one is Emma’s eldest, Celeste. And he does not like Lucas at all. It comes out of Charles in funny ways.

“Don’t put your elbows on the table,” he snaps.

The boy sits up and pulls his arms in, glaring at his father, “We’re not eating!”

“I don’t care,” says Charles. “Behave yourself or else.”

Lucas slumps in his seat, still defiant, “Else what? No dessert?” He smirks, “I can do more than you can do! I don’t know why you keep trying to scare me.”

A server comes over with their matching cups of custard. Lucas doesn’t wait for permission before digging in and Celeste has had enough of that. The boy slumps over, his face on a syrupy plate still on the table.

_“Let him sleep,”_ says Celeste, _“Let him stay out of this mess. Leave him here.”_

Charles gets up, snapping his fingers for attention. He wipes his mouth and sighs, “Take my son back to his room and make sure he doesn’t leave this building.” He gets up and walks away without confirming anything. He already knows his orders will be followed to the letter.

Normally when people give the voices in their heads different names and personalities it’s time to call a doctor and order a very special jacket. But Charles has lived with other people in his head for his whole life, he reasons. So having five sentient clones possess him at once is a little… well Phoebe put it best at the beginning.

_“You had a being called Apocalypse in your head and body. That was just nuts.”_

It seems Emma was sticking to him to guard their personalities. Since most telepaths die and move on to the Astral Plane instead of heaven, all five of the clones he destroyed went there. Emma had tucked them away safely in Charles’s mind. Since they are a part of Charles and share his voice and face and memories, they went unnoticed. The odd thought and gesture leaking out but never sounding any alarms. Until that day. When they rose up in protest.

Charles considers running upstairs to make sure Erik is still out. Sophie gently reminds him that Erik is high as a kite and not coming down anytime soon.

Charles goes along with the nudging. He follows his routine and because it’s nearly nine o’clock he looks for Raven.

His sister has been manipulated and lied to by the living god for months. When he first woke up to his mother and her strange acceptance, he thought everyone he knew merely fell in line. What he found was found was Raven leading a quiet resistance with Darwin and Alex. They worked with the former Morlock leader, Callisto after she was rescued from Warren Worthington the II. Well, sort of. The rescue party had arrived in time to clean up.

He finds Raven and Callisto outside the hotel. Raven is wearing the face of a hotel bellhop and Callisto is dressed like a maid. He faces Callisto knowing she’s wearing a ring made from the bone of Warren Senior’s tibia. She has other little artifacts like that hidden on her person, including a knife and a pair of leather shoes. People tend to leave the scary woman with the human skin shoes alone, without knowing why. Charles is unsurprised to find Raven and Yuriko and have named her godmother of any future babies.

Raven confirms that one of En Sabah Nur’s heirs is among the witnesses. He’s blocking telepathy and neither Charles nor the Great Patriarch can see him. He’ll be called on by the American lawyers last, to testify about the tributes.

The Great Patriarch is turning all the minds surrounding the Palace like soil with a till. They’ll believe whatever he tells them by tomorrow. And he’ll have the strongest of his descendants.

Charles and the five-in-one are planning to disrupt the family reunion.

He gives Raven and Callisto a brief nod. _“Take him. I’ll meet with you tomorrow. Send Alex to collect Hank.”_

They both move to follow orders without saying a word.

 

An hour later, Charles is standing in the Peace Palace. The Great Patriarch wears a pair of white linen pants and soft-looking cotton shirt. He walks around barefoot, if he walks at all. He does have a tendency to hover, thinks Charles with a smile as the man approaches.

En Sabah Nur gives him chaste kiss in greeting before taking Charles by the arm and leading him up a beautiful marble staircase, “Let us have quiet word, my Starlight. This is a big day for us.”

“Of course. We might have the honor of being named international war criminals. Break out the champagne.”

The Great Patriarch laughs, as he take Charles up to a quiet alcove. They stand together outside a stain-glassed window. The living god appreciates a small statue before turning his attention back to Charles, “Are you well, Charles? I feel you grown distant. Have I offended you?”

Charles would roll eyes, but he smiles instead. Still playing parts even after gaining his ‘sovereignty’, as En Sabah Nur told him. “I’m just tired. And worried. This could all backfire. I don’t want to lead a war…”

“Shh,” hushes the other man. He reaches out and pull Charles forward, combing his fingers through Charles’s hair. “This world is a slow moving one. It grows stagnant with all these proceedings and bureaucracy. We will ignite a change together and bring in a new day to the whole planet. The world will be culled of its weakness. You will stand with me, through this, won’t you my Shining Starlight? You will give the world hope and peace when this is over.”

Charles rests his head in the man’s neck. Celeste helps ease his stomach, enabling him to wrap his arms around the taller man’s and shoulders. “I understand that. But I still can’t… I don’t want this to be how my son sees me.” He hides his face and pretends he’s in confessional. “I don’t want Lucas to think this is how things are done. We should give them a chance…”

“Enough, shh.” En Sabah Nur gives him a paternal pat on the back. “Why did you leave behind the Black Horse in such a state? He could be here keeping your mind off all this worry.”

Charles sniffles before turning his big eyes on the Great Patriarch, “Erik hates the Hague.” He looks up at the ceiling, “Especially the The Knight’s Hall since it’s made with wooden dowels. He says the building feels naked with so little metal in it.”

The living god laughs again before pulling away from Charles, “Then he’s best where he is. Shall we walk in the garden before the proceedings?”

Charles nods and follows the man through the marble corridors and the stately buildings.

All the while, the hive mind is busy coordinating Charles’s sedition. Phoebe lets him know that Raven and Callisto already have Frederick. The man is surprisingly cooperative. Darwin and Alex are in Cairo collecting Margaret Slade and Ozymandias. Wyvern and several of the Hellfire Club guardswomen are escorting General Arlington and her family to a bunker.

The long walk takes them on a tour around The Hague. Charles smiles and points at a deer in the Malieveld. He tugs on the Great Patriarch’s hand and the man follows him. He knows the Great Patriarch is working his own powers, orchestrating his puppets across Europe. Charles can’t save the men and women that are about to die. He feels out as Shiro and Warren stalk the Peace Palace. Charles prepares himself for the role he has to take in the culling. In a moment, he’ll be tasked to murder one hundred and twenty-two diplomatic officials. While the Great Patriarch forces the minds of the Europe to accept him as their god.

The walk is over too quickly. Around noon, En Sabah Nur takes Charles’s hand in a firm grip and teleports him back to the Peace Palace. They arrive in the courtroom where the proceedings are about to start.

The building is closed to the public, though they mill outside waiting for news.

There’s no one to witness the room full of men and women as they slump in their seats, their eyes closed as they die peacefully. It was the least he could do, thinks Charles.

En Sabah Nur places a big hand on his shoulder and squeezes, “I know how you feel about needlessly taking life, Charles. But I promise you this was for the greater good.”

Charles has to struggle not to lash out. Celeste and Sophie help him rein in his emotions, but it causes him a nosebleed. He wipes his face quickly with the back of his hand and begs off his duties, “I’m tired. I just to want to lie down until the offensive starts.”

The Great Patriarch tilts Charles chin to inspect him before smiling. “I understand.” In the blink of an eye they appear in richly decorated rooms, unlike any in the hotel. It pains Charles to think of what just happened to the royal family. The look must pass over his face because he’s given another kiss and sent to bed. “Don’t worry about Queen Juliana. She understands now. You and I are the true sovereigns of the world. Every palace is our own now. Sleep well, Charles. I’ll collect you before we move out.”

He leaves Charles to finish his murder spree across The Hague.

 

Charles closes his eyes, finding it easier to slip into his protected space in the Astral Plane.

There his classroom looks frenzied. Esme, was almost fifteen years old. The clone never had the ability to walk. He seemed slow-witted and malformed to the scientist but Emma knew better. In the Astral Plane he is hyper and brilliantly unconventional. And disturbingly into Max Xorn, who he thinks is ‘really cute’… Charles doesn’t want to examine the feelings his young clone has for Erik but he felt the boy’s voyeuristic attention last night. Right now he’s at the desk, a projection of Westchester county shows where he’s keeping an eye on the survivors in the Peace Palace.

Mindee and Phoebe are eleven-year old twins. Apparently they were both deemed viable subjects and, Daniel spared Mindee’s life. They had the privilege of actually leaving the labs when they weren’t part of an active experiment. They lived most of their lives secluded in a house just outside of Nova Roma. Mindee has moved a piano into the classroom, where he plays it like a master. He’s tasked with keeping the crowd calm outside the Peace Palace, keeping a few nosy people from going inside. Phoebe sits down beside him and writes in a little yellow notepad.

As twins, they’re even more connected than the others. They’re both devoid of any freckles, and have perfectly straight noses. Charles imagines it must be want if he would look like if he were perfect, like Emma Frost. Phoebe is a red head and Mindee has black hair. They look up at the same time to smile at Charles before going back to work.

Sophie is the strongest cuckoo. He’s appears to be twelve or thirteen but he was only nine-years old when he died. Charles remembers actively not thinking about the lives of the little bodies he set on fire when he escaped. He looks at Sophie now and sees the child with crayon at the desk, drawing pictures with the code Moira developed. Sophie is the most perfectly formed clone. He looks nearly identical to Charles. His freckles can’t help being in the wrong place, but three little marks are almost placed correctly on his nose. He proudly shows Charles the picture. Charles grins, deciphering the news quickly.

“N’Dare has withdrawn her post?” This part of the plan required a great deal of strength and Sophie has actually managed it. Charles is awfully impressed by the ghost.

The boy blushes and starts another picture.

Like Esme, Celeste never walked while alive but here he’s constantly moving. He and Sophie bore the brunt of Annaud’s experiments. He has short blonde hair and an American accent.

Celeste goes to the window and dramatically fans himself. “Oh my stars and heaven! What is that hairy man doing on my front lawn?”

The others laugh at him as he pretends to swoon. Charles only rolls his eyes, preparing to leave them. “I take it he’s back and he’s shirtless?”

“Sugar,” he says sounding eerily like Emma, “That wild man of yours is practically naked. Sneaking around the basement of the hotel. You better get there quickly before Erik wakes up and feels all the metal sneaking trying to shimmy up the air ducts.”

The class fades away. Everyone gets back to work and Charles climbs out of bed.

Logan will be wearing an inhibitor so there’s no way to warn him about Erik. Charles checks in with Lucas and finds his son still sleeping. Erik has changed positions in the bed, but he’s still unconscious. That leaves him safe to contact another of his operatives.

Bohdan was among the children left in Greece when the mutants were taken. He’s good at sneaking in dark and his healing ability has already proven invaluable. Charles lets the boy know that Logan is headed for disaster and directs them both to a safehouse. Charles hates it, but The Hague will be under attack shortly. He dresses in his own blue armor, gifted to him by Apocalypse.

The spell that N’Dare was under is crashing. She’ll be free to think for herself soon. She’ll take her daughter and retreat to Egypt. Warren will take her place at the front lines. Charles may be the first suspect in freeing her, but Celeste has helped him to cover his tracks. With the Fittest of the Clan Akkaba escaping, it will look like Margaret and Ozymandias has orchestrated the whole thing with another telepath. Aaron is in position to take one photo of N’Dare placing one of Shaw’s old helmets on her head before she leaves.

“Charles!”

He turns pretending to be surprised, “What’s wrong? Why can’t I feel N’Dare?” He asks the question first and the Great Patriarch bristles.

“That vermin!” He blasts the room with his powers, destroying the bed and the windows. “They’ve stolen my Bow and Arrow!”

Charles looks at him innocently, “Clan Akkaba? They can’t steal a horsemen. We’re not… they haven’t the power to do something like that.”

En Sabah Nur prowls the room like a caged tiger, stopping in front of Charles with a growl. “They have my blood! That is all they need!”

Charles smiles at the living god, reaching up with his gloved hands before kissing the man on his dark lips. “And you have me. That is all that you need.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snickers* Imagine Charles as a puppet through this whole series.


	30. Forward March

Moscow, Russia January 1968

Charles wakes up to Erik rubbing a thumb across his forehead. It’s gentle at first, then more insistent and annoying. Charles’s body aches all over and he rather not wake up to deal with the man’s stupidity. He sighs anyway, “What are you doing, you fucking tit?”

Erik doesn’t laugh like he normally would. He leans over Charles and inspects his hairline. A frown on his own face deepening, “I never expected this. I always knew I would end up an old man with white hair… but this?” He rubs harder between Charles eyes as if he could smooth away the lines, “This is not what I wanted for my little mouse. You’re getting old _fast_ , Charles.”

Charles tries to turn his back on the man, but Erik shifts until he’s nearly on top of Charles. A leg and arm pinning him down. Charles starts to close his eyes to go back to sleep but a sudden pain at his scalp wakes him right up. “Stop that!”

Erik plucks another hair from the edge of his hairline. “Grays and whites? Maybe we should start coloring it?”

Charles elbows the man until he stops. He tries sitting up, “Whatever. You vain, prick. I’m going back to inspect…”

“No,” says Erik. He places a hand in the center of Charles’s chest and pushes the younger man back down. “You don’t need to go back out there right now. They’re still coating the grounds with lye. The stink is god awful and it rained last night.”

Charles grinds his teeth thinking of the crimes he committed for the Great Patriarch. “I can handle myself, Erik.”

Erik gives him a sad smile before laying back, pulling Charles beside him. “I know, little mouse. I know that. Just stay a couple of hours. You can come with me to judge the survivors.”

Charles doesn’t know if its cowardice or weakness that lets him agree. He closes his eyes and sleeps fitfully in their tent knowing that Moscow is in ashes before them. Knowing he let so many people die.

 

In the morning Charles has to stray from his routine. There’s nowhere to run that’s not covered in ash and smoke or blood. Moscow fought hard against the army. Shiro has been named the new horseman. But the Great Patriarch called him Pestilence, not Conquest. To celebrate his promotion, the boy burned down the Kremlin. Erik seemed annoyed at the time and cursed, “Damn it! That was not necessary, Shiro. That was a waste of fortifications.”

Before the Russian people, En Sabah Nur called himself Apocalypse. What little media allowed at the scene were controlled by Apocalypse. They spun the story to the world as ‘God saves mutant kind from its oppressors’ and there were no pictures of the devastation.

Charles gets up with Erik now to inspect the known survivors and the little camp where they’ve been sent. Erik will personally judge all the men, women and children. He’ll decide who is worthy and will be sent back to Utopia for training.

Charles’s armor is similar to Erik’s, but red and white. He doesn’t have a helmet, but a large and frankly ridiculous sword. He rather not wear it at all. Erik wears his theatrical mask, along with the armor. He looks like some kind cartoon, Charles thinks. The man love his theatrics, though. He proudly marches on and leads Charles to a gated entrance. The people are overwhelmingly fearful. Charles has to ask Celeste for help to block out the sounds of so many crying children.

Erik walks through, pretending to be unfazed. Charles can see the memories of Krakow and Auschwitz. Edie and Jakob haunt Magneto as he takes up a clipboard and assumes the role of judge. He clears his throat and looks up as the first group is brought forward. “All humans are to be exterminated except for special cases.” The people all cry out and a guard has to knock a woman trying run on the head. “Useful mutations will be celebrated in the Gray City. Now is the time to reveal yourself if you want to claim any privileges.”

The group calms down and a man comes forward. He looks at Charles and sneers before clapping his hands together. The sound he makes is thunderous and a few of the guards fall away from the pain in their ears. Charles can see the man thinking of escape. If not for himself, then he imagines buying his family time.

 _“Don’t,”_ whispers Charles in his mind. _“This is not the time to fight. You’ll only put them in more danger.”_ The man hears him over the noise and stops. Charles steps forward and looks him in the eye. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Igor,” spits out the man. He looks back at the woman who was struck. “My wife Lira and my brothers and sisters. I’m the only mutant among them. Will you leave them alone if I come with you?”

Erik sighs looking at the group and back at Charles, “I don’t think his mutation is useful at all. A bunch of noise…” he scoffs. “Personally I would put you all to death.” Charles reads Erik’s heart and knows he’s lying. The little family has struck a chord in him. “But I can tell the former Venerable Host has other ideas.” He smiles at Charles like he’s only humoring the other man. “And one should be thankful for War’s mercy. Don’t you think Igor?”

The man bows, sobbing in relief. “Thank you Max Xorn. Thank you. Bless you. Host or Consort…” He stumbles trying to think of whatever Charles’s title is now.

Charles waves a hand and the family is taken away to be processed before they board a train to Prague.

Charles stays at Erik’s side for the rest of survivors. They find thirty one mutants with useful mutations, a handful with benign gifts and a large number of very angry baseline humans. Charles tries to save everyone but Erik has eleven of the humans killed anyway.

When all the people are packed away in the train, Charles leaves Erik to deal with the soldiers. He sees Shiro coming in, proud of all the damage he’s done. His mind has been tinkered with by the Great Patriarch and he has no memory of helping Charles into the Brick City.

Charles decides to go for a walk, hiding himself as he hopes to meet with one of agents. He makes it all the way to a tree line before he’s tackled by large, heavy body. He sighs while on the ground, actually thankful to still be in the armor. “Is there a point to putting my face in the dirt, Logan?”

Logan sits up, but straddles his legs keeping him on the ground. “You stink of that dirty bastard’s cologne and sweat. I oughta throw you in the river.”

“I command you to let me go, Wolverine. That’s a direct order.” He smiles ruefully, “Everyone has to do as I say now. Even you.”

“Fuck that noise, princess…”

Charles chuckles and Logan slaps him on the back of the head before getting up and letting the smaller man breath. “I understand that Frederick has turned over his brother and some more of his family.”

“A few more creepers are crawling around the bunker, that’s for sure. Like a bunch of damn vampires. And Yuriko finally got a lead on the Annaud’s whereabouts. He’s lives under a mountain like a troll or an ogre or something. It’s like I’m running Universal Pictures or something.” Charles stays on ground and swats Logan’s hands as the man reaches out to his armor.

“Stop that. I still have work to do and places to be. There’s no time for dallying in woods.”

“Well there would be, Little Red Riding Hood, if you weren’t all covered up in that soup can.” He leaves Charles alone and pulls several papers out of his pockets. “I got these from Alex. Raven told you about Shaw’s extra creepy lab in Berlin?”

Charles nods, “Sophie was kept there. It had the highest concentration of Apocalypse’s blood. Annaud and Daniel were experimenting with the technology recovered from a tomb in Sudan.” He looks over the papers, they’re mostly readouts recovered from the computer that was connected to Tessa. Charles knows now why she wanted him to stay away.

“I don’t speak geek or anything but Darwin told me that computer shit says her mind was being rewired specifically for the Great Oz to take over. He’s been giving orders through her and others like her for years. One of Shaw’s experiments was mutant gene splicing. Giving the abilities of one mutant to another. Shaw himself wanted the powers of Apocalypse.”

Charles nods, thinking of Shaw’s introduction, “He got his hands on Tessa after Count Nefaria. The Americans…”

Logan stands up and reaches out with a hand, “Stryker might have sold her cover to Shaw, but that’s it. All that shit about an American project to stop Shaw was just cover up for Annaud’s real interest. He started all of this shit and placed himself in Shaw’s circle just open that jack in the box.”

Charles nods, “Phoebe says at much. Though Mindee thinks…”

“Cut that shit out, Charles.” Logan visibly shudders and for some reason it amuses Charles to see him so uneasy. “I told you that five-in-one crap sounds… just weird.” He pulls out a cigar to comfort himself.

Charles laughs, “Well everything is weird now, Logan. An ancient mutant has proclaimed himself king of the world. And I’m his wife.” Charles laughs at himself, “This could only happen to me. I should have listened to Sharon. Stayed out the army and made investments and brought property. Gotten fat and bald and married a string of blonde socialites. Anything really. Hell, I love horses. I could have been a jockey.”

Logan whizzes a hoarse, chocking around his cigar. “I don’t doubt it, shorty. Come here.” He grabs Charles with one arm and kisses him gently on the head. “Don’t get into any trouble. I’ll see you again tomorrow night. That lion cub revived the spy shot down in Prague. He says the New Pax is changing again. A handful of the leaders have gotten their hands on new inhibitors that can block the Great Oz.”

Charles pulls away and scrubs a hand through his hair, “That would be Erik. You don’t want to know what I had to do to commission those.” He reaches out to Logan’s head, feeling for the little button under his scalp. The day he disappeared he went to a friend called Forge who claimed he could give Logan a similar implant to help him block any future interference from Apocalypse. Unfortunately that friend was counting on Logan’s healing ability and the operation was painful and inexact.

Logan woke up in a lab with his head pulled apart and new bits of metal welded to his skull. He had to cut a hole for the little on/off switch his friend so thoughtfully installed. Apocalypse had taken over by then and the lab was raided by Warren. Shiro burnt it to ground but Logan escaped and stayed low.

The man rakes a hand in his hair, “You’re right. I don’t want know anything about that asshat. I do want to know if you’re okay… So, Chuck.” He looks Charles in the eye, “Are you okay?”

Charles doesn’t have the heart to tell him to truth so he simply answers, “I’m fine.

 

They part in the woods shortly after. Logan runs to interfere with the train taking the survivors to Prague. Charles wanders around before heading back to what’s left of the Kremlin. He wonders if Raven’s reported back to Apocalypse. Charles helped her build a cover and like her shapeshifting, she fully assumes the role of loyal servant. She’s still works as spokesperson for Utopia. While operating as spy for the sedition. Charles worries for her every minute, but she’s been good at covering her tracks.

In the ash and soot he finds Warren. Charles is surprised the man brought the bundles in his arms outside in the cool air. He says as much. “Babies shouldn’t be out in this weather, Archangel. You’ll get them sick.”

Warren rocks the twins, “I’ll keep them warm. I haven’t decided on what to name her.” He walks towards Charles and lets him take the boy. “I don’t think my father would have called her Warrenette.” He grins and Charles smiles back. Magda died giving birth to them and shortly after they found out about Warren Senior’s death.

Charles feels sorry for babies and their late mother. All they have in the world is an older brother who may have meant well a long time ago, but he’s been seduce by power and ego. He wonders what kind of future they will have if Charles doesn’t topple Apocalypse’s reign. “Wanda starts with a ‘W’,” he says. “And what’s his name? Warren the Forth?”

The Archangel shakes his head, grinning at the little boy in Charles’s arm. “I’ll let the Great Patriarch decide on their names when he blesses them.” He sighs and looks back at the camp they’ve made outside the city. “I left them with your nanny and she said she could barely handle Lucas, let alone twin infants. Where’s Raven when you need her.”

Charles huffs and they start walking back to the camp to get the babies out of the air. “Raven is a terrible babysitter. But she and Yuriko are looking to adopt,” he tosses at them. “If you want…”

“No. They’re my family. At least that’s what the metal bender says. I’ll take care of them, Charles.” He walks a little faster and Charles has try to keep up his shorter legs.

“Alright, forget I said anything. Just know that you have other options. They have other options.” He recovers the little boy’s head. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Warren looks at Charles and the telepath can see thoughts of his childhood swimming up to surface. Of feeling ignored until he manifested. Then feeling like a freak. He barely felt anything when he heard the babies were his father’s, but something in him broke free of the Great Patriarch’s control when they were born. Charles plans to cultivate that little sprout of humanity.

He grins up at Warren hoping his charms still work on the man, “What about angel names? Michael and Gabriel? Or Rachel and Uriel?”

Warren laughs, “Uriel? Who would name their child Uriel?” He stops and looks at Charles thoughtfully, “What would your sister name them?”

Charles quickly answers, “George and Audrey.”

They laugh again, agreeing the twins would be named after actors, singers or political reprobates.

 

A week later and all of Russia is under their control. The march forward to China is already planned. In short time they will have all of Asia. Charles hopes not to let it get that far. Yuriko’s contacts in Japan are already preparing defenses.

Erik has started rebuilding parts of Moscow with metal from their tanks and battlements. Apocalypse has moved stone and brick from the Kremlin.

Charles stands at the window of his new bedroom. He talked En Sabah Nur out of calling it the Red Palace. And Lucas’s plan to call it Moira’s Castle fell through. Though the boy is gaining some traction with renaming the ruins of Moscow after his mother. Erik is giving this new building a modern sophisticated foundation, but it mostly resembles a ziggurat. And Charles’s room is at the very top, in the center of a stone plateau that is covered in new soil. If N’Dare were here, it would look like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Charles is thankful for the bleak expanse of construction. With her in hands of the seditionists the rest of the world may have a fighting chance.

Erik is a surprising turncoat. He doesn’t pretend to be solely loyal to the Apocalypse and this only amuses the powerful being. Besides Charles, he speaks the most freely to their new god. Charles spent the last hour at dinner with them, watching them volley insults across the table. En Sabah actually laughed, clapped Erik on the shoulder and left with some color in his cheeks. Erik looked at Charles’s confused face and explained, “I’ve always been charmingly contrary.”

Now fresh from a bath, Charles turns to his new bed and thinks about sleeping on the floor. He has every right to bar Erik from his room and actually get some sleep. But sleep is in short supply with his conscience wracking his mind guilt. He feels worse when he admits weakness and takes out what Erik calls ‘the party favors’. Hank is too happy to prescribe him a little something extra, enabling a habit he once kicked under Erik’s imprisonment in Berlin. The drugs make sex with Erik easier. Especially now that Charles has done the one thing he promised he would never do. And Erik, the bastard, enjoys every minute he’s held down and fucked into the mattress.

Charles keeps the bathrobe on and sits on the floor near the nightstand, the little injection kit in his lap. It was easy to make this a part of his nightly routine. It makes sure he spends at least a few hours without the voices of the other five. But it leaves him vulnerable in his dreams to other wraiths.

 

“I see it now,” says Hugo. “You can’t stand to live without hurting yourself? You’re some kind of masochist. It’s sad really.” The boy turns up his nose at Charles. For some reason this hurts his feelings. They’re at the bottom of the oubliette, but the well’s entrance isn’t covered up or too far away. Charles can leave whenever he wants.

He sits on the floor trying to ignore Hugo as he says nasty things. Occasionally spitting or clawing at Charles. Charles stays put, using what strength he has while he’s high to keep the boy back. He lays his head back, hoping time above passes quickly and that he can wake up to a good day.

 

“Chuck!”

At first, Charles is certain he’s just imagining things. Then a slap to the face pulls him from his stupor. He fights to open his eyes and stare up at the Wolverine.

Logan growls at him, unwrapping the tourniquet still around his arm and throwing it out the window. “The fuck are you...! No. I don’t have time for this shit, Charles. Move your ass!”

“Is he alright?”

Charles blinks to clear his vision. He can make out a couple blurry Logans and strange, pink-haired man near his bathroom. Charles keeps sitting, unused to having his nightly ritual stirred up. If Erik bothers coming by he at least follows order, think Charles. Logan is snarling as gathers Charles up in his arms. “Fuck your timing, Chuck. We’ve got things to do!”

Charles lets his head roll back on Logan’s shoulder, “I was going to bed, James. Its bedtime.”

“Don’t call me that!” The man shifts his hold on Charles and takes him to the stranger.

Charles realizes slowly that the man is Frederick Slade. He finds himself grinning at one Apocalypses descendants, “That makes me your wicked stepmother…” He laughs, because the joke makes all the sense in the world to him.

The Five-in-One start stirring in the background. Celeste is just starting to creep in and Phoebe bothers him with the thought, _“In my old body, I never took drugs to go sleep. A warm glass of milk helps.”_

“Shut up, Phoebe,” says Charles with his face in Logan’s neck.

“Who is he talking to?” Asks Frederick.

Logan sighs and holds Charles, “Ignore him, we’ll get this straight after we get the hell out of here. Come on, vamoose.”

Charles doesn’t know what Logan’s on about. There no escaping the Great Patriarch. There’s no escaping Erik. And he would be hard pressed to outrun a moose right now. Charles belatedly realizes he’s still very high. The man with the pink hair grips Logan by the shoulder and in the blink of an eye they change location.

Charles struggles to pay attention as Logan carries him through a dark corridor. They stop in front a pair doors and enter a lab lit up with red lighting. Charles laughs at the little man that comes out. Frederick and Logan look concerned but Charles can’t help finding everything funny in the moment.

Dr. Annaud clears his throat, “I can see the subject has been greatly altered. This is what happens when the unprofessional dapples in creating gods. It’s sad, really.” He tuts and shakes his head as he comes closer. “Have we time for a full diagnostic? I hear my little cuckoos are still with you, Charles?”

Charles stops laughing as the man comes closer and pokes him with a pencil, “Sophie sends his regards.”

“Ah!” The man backs away, pulling a syringe from his pocket, “Such a good boy, my Sophie. I thought of replacing you with him altogether at the end there… but your paramour tried to have me killed. He quickly collects his sample and pockets it while Logan still holds Charles. “Now, we must schedule proper diagnostic for the virus to work in time.”

“Virus?” Charles vaguely recalls that Essex’s virus is their shining hope, but… “You did not just infect me with that thing?”

Dr. Annuad laughs this time, “No, no, no, just a sample of your blood as it is now to help your vaccine. You are going to deliver the payload after all. We wouldn’t want you to die as well.”

Logan squeezes Charles in his arms. “Can you remember all this, Chuck?”

Charles gives the man a weak punch to the shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m just a little under the weather.” He turns back to Annaud, Celeste helping to clear his mind. He could walk fine on his own, but he’s missed having Logan near. He sighs and relaxes as if the man were a piece of furniture. “I’m sorry we can’t talk more, Dr. Annaud. But if Apocalypse thinks I’m missing, he’ll come look for me. It’s best I get back. I’ll let Logan know when I have some free time. But for now…” He looks around the lab, “Can you hand me one of those?”

Frederick sees him pointing to an inhibitor band. “This?”

Charles takes it, “Leave me in the woods outside the ziggurat. I’m going to having act up storm for Apocalypse. Hell, I might even give China some time.”

Annaud laughs, “Conniving little fellow. Go on then, get back to work.”

Charles agrees with him, “You too, Doctor. And best of luck.”

Charles spends the rest of night crying in the arms of En Sabah Nur. He talks the man into stalling the march into China a few days. He’s happy to report to Logan he can be seen by the doctor before they take Mongolia. Charles worries for everyone working against Apocalypse but he’s already accepted his own fate.


	31. Five in One

Berlin, Germany February 1968

 

Esme is showing the others a graphic slideshow with a projector set up in the classroom. The children all gasp. The twins cover each other’s eyes. Sophie blushes and hides behind his coloring book. Celeste looks bored and leans back in his chair, “Boo!”

Esme clears his throat, “Well, I just think you can use a break. Let me drive the body for a while and I’ll keep Famine entertained…”

“Stop,” Charles covers his own eyes. “I’m not subjecting any of you to Erik’s fucked up appetite. Just stop. Sit back down and focus on the Chinese retreat.” He uses every ounce of authority he has to address Esme. The boy pouts as he returns to his desk, the slideshow of filthy memories going with him. “Now Sophie, how is the virus acting on the new cell cultures?”

Sophie flips his coloring book. He shows Charles a rudimentary drawing of a chicken. “The first test shows the mutant x gene being manipulated by the Virus T-Oa. It’s pulled apart and the virus replicates itself with the stolen RNA or proteins.” He turns the page shows everyone a chicken that looks strangely robotic, “The second and third strains of the virus reacts on other genes. T-Ob rewrites genetic code, transforming organics into metal. T-Oc damages brain cells, infecting the neural pathways and causing a thick plague of organic metal to grow. So far the good doctor’s made two robot chickens.” He makes his little coloring book dance across the desk. “Ba-caw!”

Celeste turns the lights back on, “Proximity alert, Captain.”

Charles stretches out with his powers, confirming someone has entered his personal space. “It’s Warren. I have to go deal with this. But keep up with Annaud. I don’t want that sneaky bastard turning me into a… a… whatever the hell the chicken is now.”

“A robot!” Esme points at the book, “It’s definitely a robot chicken.”

Mindee rolls his eyes, “We won’t let you be a robot, Charles.”

Charles gets up from his desk, “Thank you, Mindee.” He smiles at the child.

“You’d be a cyborg.”

He leaves to the sound of his own voice laughing. The others are little shits when they want to be.

 

Charles wakes up on a train. He has his own private car, complete with a little bedroom and sitting area. He was resting in his bed, as much a man can be traveling over two hundred miles per hour. Erik’s new train network is finished expanding across Utopia. Now it takes less than two hours for Charles to cross from the Gray City to Berlin. This particular train is Erik’s favorite. The official Utopian State Councilman Train.

Erik was gloating over its designs in Moscow when Apocalypse simply vanished before reappearing. He had clapped Erik on the shoulder and told him, “Fine work, my child. It is a splendid way for the pedestrians to get around.” He then vanished again and left Charles laughing at Erik. The man declined to go with him back to Gray City. He had work to do, judging the survivors of their latest attacks outside Astana, Kazakhstan.

All the better, thinks Charles now. He rather be on his own. He has an appointment with the good doctor at the end of the week. Capturing the whole of Russia and maintaining it is harder than it looks. There’s a healthy amount of resistance still objecting to Apocalypse’s rule.

En Sabah Nur had Charles stay in the center of the country, spreading his awareness to the limit as they tried to take the border countries as well. The stretches are putting a visible strain. More than just grey hair and baggy eyelids. Apocalypse has order Hank to rebuild, not one but five Cerebros. Perhaps even more in the future.

Pushing into Mongolia, Kazakhstan, and China is nearly impossible. They’ve seized the Russian government and key towns, but the people are still fighting. Charles tries to give the resistance a chance whenever possible.

Warren joins him on the bed. His wings spread up over them both and Charles looks up at them as the early morning light bounces around the room. He marvels at the beauty of these monstrous metal wings and Warren’s control. Charles sits up and smiles for him, “Are the twins comfortable? I wanted to show them all around the station. I promised Lucas souvenirs if he behaved himself.”

Warren looks anywhere but at Charles, “They’re fine.   But Lucas isn’t here. The Great Patriarch collected him while you were sleeping.” He swallows a lump, “And he told me not to wake you until we got here. You looked like you could use the rest.”

Charles seethes at the thought of Lucas being unsupervised, allowed to exercise his powers in an open war field. “That’s fine,” he lies. “They should spend more time together, really. Lucas adores him.” He gives Warren the kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and lays back down. “Tell me when the porters have collected our things. I’ll get off in a little while.”

Warren takes that for dismissal and does as he was told.

Charles sobs after he’s left alone, thinking about his son in the clutches of Apocalypse. He doesn’t have to imagine what Lucas will turn out like with that kind of tutor. He sees it every day in Erik. It’s his worst nightmare, he thinks. That his son will be driven mad or to obsession. If only he could act sooner.

He feels a hand combing through his hair and looks up, a projection of Sophie smiling down at him. The vision disappears and Charles wipes his face. He steels himself to get up and go about his errands.

Apocalypse has asked him to speak on his behalf for the media. Charles is supposed to control the minds of all the people in attendance and ease their anxiety about the march into Asia. The Great Patriarch trusts Charles with this. And Charles reasons, that’s why the man has stolen Lucas. To be sure he can _continue_ to trust Charles.

A porter comes and knocks on the door, then enters the room without asking. A round-faced young man, already balding with big gray eyes and a red nose. Charles lets out a chuckle as Raven changes in front of him. “Was that a real person?”

She shrugs changing into a beautiful woman with big, fluffy afro and tiny porter uniform. “Better? Let’s get out to the station. I’m thinking of kidnapping you now for Logan.”

“I can’t. He’s taken Lucas. We can’t do anything suspicious while he has my son.” Charles gets up and puts his shoes and jacket back on. “Besides, I might have a way to stall him before he starts in Mongolia So many theaters and so quickly. He’s bound to miss something as he delegates all these fronts to minor puppets. Just make sure you see him later today. He wants to know what you’ve been up to in America.”

She changes back to her blue-skinned self, “Oh the cover story I worked out is perfect. Yuriko is taking Sharon back to the bunker, but if we really want move things ahead we need to get Lucas out of Europe.”

Charles feels split between being hopeful and despairing. “I know that, but he’s been named the heir of this damn tyrant. I can’t just take him away without Apocalypse noticing. We have to be careful.” He cautions his sister, “And whatever you tell him later better not raise any red flags. He’s already sniffed out the seditionists. He sent Shiro into the Morlock territory to search for members of the New Pax. Can’t you tell them to be more careful with those damn flyers?”

She shrugs and opens the door, “We’ll have to talk later. For now, put on your happy face, O Glorious Consort. Honorable Horseman of War, Venerable Former Host, Celebrated Councilman, First of His Name, etcetera, etcetera…”

“Shut up, Raven.”

 

“Councilman Xavier?” A young reporter has caught on after Charles’s introduction. They’re sticking to the simple title, and calling him by his name. “How many have died in the attack on Russia…” The man stops and corrects himself with a little nudging, “I mean how many have fallen in the defense of mutant kind?”

“I’m glad you asked that question,” says Charles with a sad expression. “We’ve lost many brothers and sisters in this campaign, but the exact numbers are hard to come by. The actual figures will be disclosed shortly.”

“Charles!”

Charles turns his attention to Aaron and a new colleague up front. “Yes, Aaron? And I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

The woman with Aaron grins and taps her temples. The people in the room all laugh and with a little more nudging all their notes are easily skewed to read more favorable for the Great Patriarch. It makes Charles sick to his stomach but he carries on with his task.

He reminds everyone he has a special appearance on The Tonight Show this week and they all nod and smile.

Keeping his mind on this while augmented their memories is on Charles. That’s how he reasons seeing a projection of Celeste amongst the crowd. He yawns dramatically before picking his nose and wiping his hand on the back of Aaron’s head. It’s a funny enough scene, and Charles smiles despite the situation.

At the end, a young girl reporting for a fashion magazine asks about his hair and wardrobe.

Charles looks down at himself, he’s wearing a red silk coat over his suit with a high collar. His hair has grown long and thick in the last couple of months. The gray that scares Erik, just edging the corner of his hairline. He grins at the girl, “My mother dressed me.”

He waves and leaves the people laughing, and they forget the more serious questions they meant to ask.

 

Charles has been avoiding Berlin. He hates the city. He hates the obvious damage from the Wakening, where parts of it still lies in ruins. He hates that Erik’s tower still stands, tall and beautiful in the skyline.

He’s surprised to feel a tap on his shoulder. Erik stands behind him, dressed in his mask and black suit. Charles sighs, wondering if the man just arrived from the station. He must have followed after Charles left on the first train. A retinue of guards and attendants wait for orders from Charles. Sophie whispers in his ears to keep alert, something isn’t right about Erik.

“I thought it was gone before, you know. My home, my cars. I thought you burnt it all down like in Prague and Krakow. I mean Eriks.” Charles imagines Erik’s smile under the mask. The man gestures to the tower. “I’ve avoided going back, but it’s nice to see it still stands.”

Charles shudders to think of the damage he caused, “It was only my first time. I couldn’t be completely thorough.” He gives the man a tight smile. “I thought you were staying at the front in Kazakhstan?”

Erik reaches for his shoulder, but aborts the movement as the retinue starts packing the cars and ushering Charles to move. “I was…” He follows Charles to his car and addresses the driver, “To the… what do we call it now?”

Charles looks away, “The Steel or something. There’s no one there. It’s been milled for information about Shaw. It’ll be sold in few years. I understand there’s a law firm looking to buy it.”

Erik points to the building and tells the driver to go on to it, “The Steel. Hm. I like that better than Headquarters. It’s more artistic.” He takes off the masks and Charles wonders at his tired face. “Would you come up with me to our room, Charles? There’s something we have to talk about…”

“Erik, no.” Charles bites the inside jaw, “I’m never stepping foot in that building again. Forget it.”

“Please, Charles.”

 _“It’s important_ ,” whispers Esme. The boy sits between them and Charles can just see him out the corner of his eye. “ _He doesn’t want the Great Patriarch to know. Just hear him out.”_ Charles ignores the boy.

“Please. I need to see you there. Just one last time.” He reaches over the seat and takes Charles by the hand.

Knowing Erik has done some brilliant work for him and the seditionists is the only reason he considers agreeing. He gives the man a put-upon sigh and sits through the car ride. When they’re just outside the building, he tells his attendants to go on to his hotel. He’ll be along later.

Erik opens the gates, the doors, and lifts the elevators. There’s no power in the building. It’s dark and quiet without the buzz of sycophants. Parts of it has obviously been dismembered as they searched for hidden rooms and technology.

Erik takes them up to the apartment and opens the door. Charles follows, his hearting thumping against his chest as panic threatens to overtake him. He stops just inside the doorway. “That’s far enough. Say whatever you have to and I’m going.”

“I love you, Charles.”

Charles scoffs at him, expecting some variant of that but still not prepared for it. “So. That means nothing to me, Erik. Not now, not then. It never will. You’re obsessed with some warped idea of me. But you don’t love me, Erik. You are still a monster.”

“But I’m your monster, Charles. You’re as much as my creator as my Father. Everything I’ve done, I did to be closer to you… what I do now to protect you...” He breaks eye contact, shame clearly written on his face. “What I’ve done. What I always do.”

“You’re not making sense. Are you high or something?” Charles starts to back out of the room but Erik falls to his knees and starts sobbing in earnest.

“Please. Just give me one day. Please, Charles.”

Charles figures the man has finally cracked, he tries to read his surface thoughts and comes up empty. Erik doesn’t appear to be wearing anything that can block him, but he knows the man is good at hiding his technology. He settles for asking, “What do you want?”

Erik hurries out of his coat, “Come up to the garden with me.”

“No,” Charles takes a step back. “Just tell me what this is. Sex in a familiar setting? I’m not drunk enough for this, Erik.” He starts to turn his back but Erik manages to stand and cross the distance between them quickly. Before he realizes it, Charles is on the floor of _the_ apartment, the door locked behind him.

Erik holds him down, opening his silk coat while kissing Charles’s neck. “Please, Charles. God, just listen to me. Just give me this. Please.” His hands shake as he tries to undress Charles, batting away the smaller man’s hands.

Charles shakes his head, “No!” He swings at Erik, “If I say no, it means something. If I say no, you have to stop!” He pushes Erik away and tries to nudge his mind but that doesn’t work. Erik sits back and raises his hands on his own.

“I understand, little mouse. Please. Don’t fight me today. I need you.” He extends one of his hands and Charles sees they’re bruised at the knuckles.

Charles finally takes in Erik whole appearance. His tired face, a bruise blooming near one ear. “What happened to you?” Erik is being strange, even for a madman. He’s been perfectly behaved up to this point. Submissive and obedient. Charles wonders what could have sparked this desperation.

Erik breaks down crying. “I couldn’t do it again. I looked at her little face and I couldn’t do it again.” He sits up and his hands are shaking as he comes closer to Charles. They’re both on their knees but Erik is tall enough to still loom. Charles stays put, frozen while Erik wraps one hand around his neck, and covers his mouth with another.

“ _You’re in shock,”_ projects Celeste. _“Stay awake, Charles.”_

But it’s hard for Charles to concentrate on anything with Erik holding him like this, in this place. Erik starts rambling. “All that red and pink. It was just the same. I couldn’t do it again.” He shakes Charles, “You know what I did, don’t you Charles? You know! That’s why you call me a monster!”

Charles’s body won’t cooperate and he feels Celeste nudging forward, trying to take over. “ _Five in One_ ,” the others chant.

Erik shakes him again. “It was Father’s fault. He told me exactly what to do that night. I took the doll clothes and put them in her little red mouth. I put my hand over her little face. And held on. Just like this,” he squeezes his hand and cuts pinches Charles nose. “I held on, while she choked and screamed. I held on… I did it. I killed Ruth then and I lied to Mama. But she knew didn’t she?” He shakes Charles harder, “She knew. You saw and she saw it! Tell me!”

“ _Five in One,”_ Charles lets Celeste take the wheel long enough to escape Erik’s grip. His body scrambles away, pushing Erik roughly. But Erik doesn’t fight, he simply falls over.

Erik stays on the floor, hunched over and crying. Charles looks at him and the bruises again, finally recovering from the shock. “What happened today, Erik?” Charles backs away. He tries using the stolen powers to open the door. It barely moves.

Erik must feel it because he sits up and laughs, the tears still in his eyes. “You need to practice, mouse. You need to practice.” He curls a finger and the door swings open.

Charles’s freedom is right there and he starts for it, glad to be free of this horrible place.

Erik cries out on the floor, falling over as he clutches his middle. “Charles, please. I need you. I won’t stop you, but I need you.”

Charles makes it to doorway and looks down at the man. “Fuck off, Erik.” A few tears fall down his face, “You’re not my monster. And you’re not Shaw’s. You didn’t have to… You could have fought harder for the things you love. You didn’t even try!” Now he’s crying for the man on the floor. His heart torn for the boy who probably thought he did what he had to do. “And I’m not going to feel sorry for you now. Not in this place. So just fuck off!” He starts heading for the elevator and hopes his powers will allow him to move the damn thing. He halfway there when he hears a crash back in the apartment.

He rolls his eyes, intent on ignoring Erik’s tantrum, but the sound of raised voices alarms him. He turns back and stands well away from the open door. Inside, Erik is being held down by Shiro and Warren. He struggles in their grasp but they pin him down to the floor. Shiro on Erik’s feet and Warren with an arm around Erik’s neck.

Apocalypse walks around the room slowly before turning his attention to Charles. “Are you all right, my shining Starlight? Did this feral dog hurt you?”

Charles looks at where Erik is in Warren’s arms. He stutters as the Great Patriarch pulls him close. What could he say that wouldn’t get him killed this time?

“I let him near you and this is how he repays me.” Apocalypse moves to stand in front of Charles and kneels down in front of Erik. “Who told you to make those odious crowns? And free the prisoners? And kill my soldiers?!”

Erik laughs and hangs his head. Charles is terrified that everything is over now. Erik has destroyed everything by getting caught. Why, he thinks. Why did he trust the man to begin with? Erik keeps laughing as he sits up straight and looks the Great Patriarch in the eye. And now Charles has just rejected Erik. He’s preparing for the worst when Erik opens his mouth, “The Slades and a disgustingly old man told me. They promised I could keep Charles after we toppled you.” He grins.

Charles doesn’t know what to call the feeling in his chest, but he thinks its relief.

Apocalypse growls, a nasty rattling noise as he stands up. “You are not worthy of the respect I gifted you. Or your powers.” He stretches out his hand and must takes whatever he’s given to Erik. Magneto’s eyes rolls back in his head. He seizes before he slumps in Warren’s hold. “Take him to his precious Ironclad. Let him stew in one his iron cells. I’ll deal with him later.”

Charles just stands there, terrified of what will happen next. He’s not ready for the Great Patriarch’s embrace, his strong hands kneading Charles’s shoulders and fingers combing through his hair.

“My shining one,” says En Sabah Nur with his face buried in Charles’s hair. He kisses Charles on the head and neck before letting him go, “I’m so sorry you were subjected to that. I promise it will never happen again. He will be retrained, and this time there will be no room for aberration.” He gently claps Charles on the back, “You look like you’ve been to death’s door. Come with me and I’ll help you recover.”

Charles is too afraid to refuse. He holds on tight as they disappear and reappear in a desert.

Charles looks around. His eyes sting as sand blows in the wind. His throat already feels parch and the heat is so stifling he feels like he can’t breathe.

Apocalypse looks comfortable enough. He gestures for Charles to follow him and it’s just like their little walks in the Astral Plane. The man waves a hand and the ground opens up. It appears to be a hangar door. There are stairs and Charles follows as En Sabah Nur leads down to into the cavernous pit. There a giant ship, unlike anything Charles has seen before.

“Come inside with me, my Starlight. I promised to share such wonders with you.”

He holds out his hand Charles takes it.

 


	32. The Eternals

Gray City, Utopia April 1968

 

Charles stares at his own reflection like he’s looking at a stranger. He’d grown used to getting old.

And now he’s not. And the Great Patriarch promises he will never age. His long hair falls in fluffy waves around his face, his eyes no longer tired and saggy. The distinguished spot of grey hair, changed back to a vibrant chestnut.

Raven will stare at him now, wondering if he’s been seduced by the gift. His appearance had the world murmuring after he sat down with Johnny Carson. The show was shot on a closed set, a small audience provided by the FBI as Johnny played up being an entertainer while Secret Service agents watched Charles like a hawk. It was the first time he’d been on American soil in such a long time, and he was treated like a criminal. Charles had joked that despite his accent he was still an American citizen. Johnny had corrected him by reading from an official statement, “Actually sir, your rights and privileges as an American were revoked by President Kennedy. Captain America supported the action. I’m sorry to say, you’ll have to own up to having a bunch Castles across the pond.”

The laugh track crowd had given them a strange look before obeying the sign that read, ‘laugh now’.

The only good thing from the interview came from Mr. Carson himself. He seemed suspicious of Charles, but he treated Charles with respect. At the end of the show, he looked Charles in the eye and expressed his regrets in not being able to do more. He gave Charles an envelope and told him it was for the Raven’s eyes only.

Finding a member of the sedition working the media lifted his spirits greatly. His act with the Great Patriarch is full of warm smiles and the occasional chaste kiss. It leaves him feeling constantly ill.

He finishes in the mirror, shaves, gets dressed. He walks out into his bedroom and scowls at the bright red sheets some imbecile has dressed his oversized bed in. He strips the bed before heading out, yelling at some poor housekeeper before looking for his son.

He finds Lucas sitting in En Sabah Nur’s lap. The sight sets his nerves on fire, his fingers twitch with the impulse to grab his child and flee the dining room. Instead he smiles, “Good morning, my loves. How is the day finding you?” He sits down and has a nice breakfast. They discuss the movement across Asia. The Chinese campaign has just as much resistance as the Russian. But Kazakhstan did fall, and new temples devoted to En Sabah Nur sprung up. Mongolia isn’t talked about at the table. It was almost embarrassing. A team of women on horseback defeated an army of mutants with bows and arrows during the first wave. En Sabah Nur’s reaction was to deem them all ‘worthy’ and order Charles to take their minds.

The women were mostly human, a small girl among them able to move earth with her mind. Charles did as he was told, but left the impression of a countdown clock in their minds. When the time is right, they will act for the sedition and Charles is sure it will be a glorious thing to behold.

In the meanwhile, the telepath has to focus on getting his son free of both Apocalypse and Hank.

Since Hank was allowed to rebuild the Cerebro here, he uses Lucas to upgrade it. Charles has to allow the experiment but he refuses to participate himself. En Sabah Nur indulges him and tells Charles he’ll learn to love his friend again in time.

Perhaps, but that time is not now, he thinks. Lucas finishes his plate and reaches up to wrap his arms around En Sabah Nur’s neck, “Papa, can I go play with Uncle Hank?”

The living god is about to give his blessing, but Charles interrupts. “No, remember we are going home to Westchester today? Your grand-ma-ma misses you.” He smiles over a glass of orange juice and hopes Apocalypse doesn’t undermine him. “And you were going to meet your other grandparents. Your mother’s father and mother, remember?”

Lucas almost looks like the little boy he remembered. He smiles at his father across the table, a few new freckles dotting his nose as his hair curls around his face. “I remember! I can’t wait!” He climbs down and runs out the room, probably to ‘pack’ a bag of things a five-year-old deems necessary for a long plane ride. Like candy.

Charles sighs in relief and hopes it doesn’t give him away. Across the table, En Sabah Nur considers him with a cold stare. “You would take my treasure away for such a trifle?”

“He’s excited to have some part of his mother still around. And you didn’t keep your promise to name Moscow…”

Apocalypse laughs, “Yes, I know, I know. He was so sullen about that. Perhaps after we take the rest of the continent.”

Charles smiles at the man before getting up. He walks over and kisses the side of Apocalypse’s head. “We’ve already gone farther than the Khans and Alexander the Great. To be honest, I think I need a break from all the expanding.” He lets the man pull him down to straddle his lap.

Apocalypse rubs a thumb across his chin and gives Charles plenty of time to break away before leaning in to give him a deeper kiss. He hums in satisfaction when Charles accepts. He pulls away with small bite to Charles’s bottom lip. “As a child so different from the others around me, I once thought I would never find love or acceptance. After five thousand years, I’ve had many eager bedmates Charles, but no true equals. Not until you.”

Charles nods, knowing the man is being patient with him. “And I thank you for all that you’ve given me. But,” he sighs dramatically sinking the other man’s arms, “I’m just so _damn_ tired.”

That wins a half-hearted slap on his thigh and En Sabah Nur helps upright then holds onto his waist as he stares up into Charles’s eyes. “Take your rest, my Starlight. There is still so much good work to do.” He grins and its terrifying thing to witness. Charles only smiles back at him and leaves with arms crossed over his chest. Hoping he doesn’t appear as shaken as he feels.

 

Charles has a small group of mutant soldiers and Ambrose follow him to his private jet. Hank was supposed to pilot, but Charles has vetoed that. He asked for Yuriko instead. She meets him in the Gray Palace hanger, accepts a hug from Lucas and salutes Charles before they board.

He clears his throat, recognizing the signal to clear the staff still loyal to the Great Patriarch. “Change of plans everyone. I don’t plan on doing any state work while on vacation. Please return to your other duties.” He nervously fumbles with his hands in his pockets, hoping everything goes as planned.

Ambrose makes a confused face and Celeste helps Charles give everyone a firm nudge. They finally walk away, left with the order to stay out of the way and tell the same story should they be questioned.

Charles claps Lucas on the back, “Come on then. Follow your aunt to the cockpit. She wants to show you how to fly.”

Lucas lights up, “Yes! Can I take us all the way there! I can’t wait!” He runs aboard the ship and Charles knows he didn’t feel the needle that just injected him a tranquilizer.

By the time Charles and Yuriko board, Lucas is sleeping peacefully in Logan’s arm. “The fuck have you been feeding this kid, Chuck? He weighs a goddamned ton.”

Charles passes them both to join Yuriko at the flight controls, “Keep quiet back there, Logan. Put him to bed on one of the couches.”

Logan sticks his head in the cockpit, “You know you have a like a whole bedroom in this thing? I could leave him there…”

“No,” corrects Charles. “That’s the inflight entertainment.”

Yuriko looks over at both men as they grin at each other. “I wish I could unhear that.”

The flight passes peaceably if sexually charged. Halfway into their journey Charles abandons his seat as co-pilot. He checks on Lucas and gives him a second dose, steers his dreams to peaceful thoughts about his mother. He radios an operative still in the Gray Palace to be sure Apocalypse won’t simply appear on the plane. “He returned to Mongolia after you left, sir. The new Russian recruits have preached a camp there.”

“Excellent,” says Charles before signing off. He sits at the radio and watches Logan as the man calmly puts out a cigar.

“I believe I was promised some kind of entertainment. I haven’t got any yet. I want my money back.”

Charles can’t help grinning at the giant clown, “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement, sir. If you’ll just follow me.” He gets up to lead Logan to the bedroom and the man slaps his ass as he passes.

“Sorry. I don’t normally accost stewardesses. Hey…”   He gets up with a peculiar twinkle in his eye, “You got one of those little uniforms around here?”

Charles laughs out loud and Yuriko loudly clears a throat from the cockpit. Charles hushes Logan and grabs the man by the hand. He’s surprised they make it all the way to the bedroom. It’s small, but comfortable. They tumble on the bed and Charles practices with his stolen powers, closing the door.

“Oh, I felt that one.” Logan sits up and helps Charles out of his shoes, “We have to find a use for that later. But right now I really, really need you to fuck me, Chuck.”

Charles shakes his head and pulls his legs away, “Right now I really, really need your mouth on me. Now, down.” Charles says with command in his voice.

Logan is all too happy to comply.

They spend the next hour having frantic sex.   Charles turns to his side and gives Logan the dirtiest look he can manage. The man laughs at his effort, but holds up Charles’s leg as lines himself up. They’re already covered in cum and sweat but Logan shows no signs of tiring. He slips into Charles’s stretched wet, hole and starts thrusting. Slowly this time, as his broad hands touch Charles everywhere. He grunts in Charles’s ear as he gets close. He doesn’t bother reaching around to where Charles is soft after coming the last time. Charles tilts his head and holds his hair back. Logan must think about the consequences of leaving marks because he hesitates. His hips even stop jutting forward.

Charles sighs, “Please. Please just help me remember this. Do it, please. Logan do it for me?” He pants and closes his eyes trying to cement in his head the plans he has for later. The marks he plans to flaunt. Logan finally complies, slamming into Charles hard before biting him on the neck.

Charles cries out and Logan covers his mouth with his left hand while he holds Charles in place with the other. “Quiet, Chuck. You get what you asked for.” He pumps in and out of Charles, slowly hammering the smaller man until he feels sparks. Charles is surprised to see himself hard again. Logan licks the mark and clamps down again and Charles feels himself coming from the sensation. He passes out that time, just as he registers the feeling of cum dripping out his channel.

Charles wakes up alone to the mess in the bedroom. Well, he amends, he’s the only thing still messy. The lube and bed and clothes have all been cleaned up. He’s still a little sticky, but he’s been wiped down.

He hears voices outside the room and wonders if Yuriko has the plane on auto pilot. He quickly dresses and goes to the bathroom to wash his face. He smiles at his reflection and the large red and purple mark under his collar.

He opens the door of the bedroom with a self-satisfied smirk. Yuriko pretends to gag when she sees him.

 

By the time they land in Westchester and the new secret hanger under Sharon’s tennis court, Charles has had to dose Lucas a third time.

Logan gathers the boy up and leads Charles and Yuriko through the new winding corridors under the mansion. They stop in front a buzzer, where Logan grins back at Charles. “Raven tell you this was my idea?”

Charles draws a complete blank, “What? The new lighting down here? Is there a door there now?”

Logan laughs pressing the button hard with his meaty thumb.

At once, a swirling vortex opens up in front of them. They step through and Charles assumes they’re in new sedition laboratory under Roma Nova. Annaud greets them as a little girl sitting at similar buzzer smiles up at them. “I did it really fast this time!”

Logan walks past her and winks, “Fine work, Blink. Now get the hell out of here.”

The girl giggles and runs off. Charles follows Logan Yuriko as they strap Lucas down. “He won’t be harmed, will he Doctor? You’re just keeping him asleep.”

The good doctor lays his hand on Lucas’s head, “He will stay down while I have access to him. His abilities are too numerous for him to have expert control in any one of them yet. When this is all over, I’ll help him learn to control it.”

Charles nods weakly, agreeing despite how much he hates the man. “You will not poke and prod at my child, Doctor. He’s a little boy, not your science experiment.”

Annaud clicks his tongue, “Of course, of course. You however, are my science experiment. The greatest experiment I’ve ever ran. Come along, Charles. You can still grow so much, and we have such short time to work with. The living fossil is going regret disrespecting my research after he sees this.” He laughs like a mad scientist and even Logan looks uneasy. “But I digress. Please come with me.”

Charles follows him to room a full of vats similar to the ones he saw in the other labs. There’s a large opening in the floor where a few inches of red liquid bubble. Celeste and Mindee help him to remember his time in this place before. He sees a projection of Phoebe and Mindee leaning over the hole, _“They’re running out of blood. They’ll want to preserve Apocalypse when this is all over, not destroy him. Can we let them get away with that Charles?”_ They look up at Charles and he has to look away.

Annaud is moving around tables and computers, pulling out drawers and turning things on. He stops what appears to be a centrifuge and removes two vials of black liquid. “Did he heal you with his blood directly this time? It has quite the effect. You don’t look a day over twenty.” Charles shakes his head and the man grumbles, “Subject does not have to be so secretive. We are all on the same side now.” He offers Charles a wide smile, his curly white hair falling into his wrinkled face. Charles thinks Logan is right, suddenly. This place _is_ the lot of Universal Pictures and Victor Frankenstein is smiling at him. What could possibly go wrong.

“Doc,” says Logan while crossing his arms, “I still think it would be better if I delivered the package. It probably wouldn’t kill me anyway, even without a… a whatever you called it.”

The good doctor scowls at the man, “No! A thousand times no! You are not compatible. Charles has had years and years to build resistance. I’ve groomed him for this singular purpose. He will deliver the virus on his own. If not the contingency is already in place.” He holds out his wizened old hands, “Come here, my child. Now is not the time to be timid. You’ve lived your whole life afraid of your own potential. Now is the time to take hold of it and really change the world.”

Charles stays put, “I’ve already seen the world change. And it is always for the worst. No matter what I do from here on, it’ll never right things. The things I’ve done…”

“Shhh,” soothes the good doctor. “Doubt. Ego. Persuasion. This is how the living god works. But he is an obsolete model. Years behind in evolution now. You are the future, Charles. Believe me, when I say you are my masterpiece.”

“How can you say… I saw his ship!” Charles looks frantically between him and Logan. “Technology, from what… only god knows where. I saw the bodies of his own descendants being harvested for his blood. The people I turned over to him. I….” He looks down at his hands. “I let him give it to me. I let everything happen.”

Logan slaps him on the shoulder and pulls Charles out of his morose thoughts, “You did what you had to do, Chuck. None of the blame here lies with you. We’re going to put an end to the madness once and for all. All right?”

Annaud walks up to Charles and holds out his hand. Something in Charles won’t let him accept the handshake so the man laughs hands the vials over to Logan. “I’ll see you again soon, Subject. Farewell.”

 

Charles has two more days of his vacation. He goes back to Westchester with the little girl. Sharon greets him and he’s surprised to see her not only sober but preparing a team with General Arlington. He’s happy to see the woman alive and well. She tells him about N’Dare and Ororo and how they’ve started to assist the Chinese. The seditionists are prepared to strike the moment they hear Apocalypse has been neutralized. It’s the devout, the sycophantic, and the misled they’re worried about. People like Shiro and Warren. The army Apocalypse amassed numbers in the millions now. Common people fighting and dying for their god. The land war in Asia has become a holy war. Charles sees no end to it without striking Apocalypse now.

He spends the last moments of his vacation in a bathtub. He cried the first night thinking of how Moira died. His mother didn’t comment on his choice to stay in a guestroom. After he soaks for over an hour he gets up. He prepares himself for his next move but not before frowning at his reflection in the mirror. The hole in his head, the noise he heard before is gone. But the five-in-one offer little comfort with their tiny ghost faces in his mirror. He hurries up and leaves the bathroom before he can change his mind, and asks for Blink.

The girl hurries to him and opens a portal. “This is right, right? Uncle Frederick took me up there to scout very carefully.”

He looks at the long dark corridor and nods, “God work, Captain.”

The girl laughs but holds her power steady as he goes through.

Coming through the other side of his worst nightmare. He walks past the cell he knows he was held in before. The one where his family was kept until they were taken to Berlin. He stands directly across from the one he knows Erik to be in. Charles extends his hand and the door opens.

Erik sits up, looking bruised and dirty but healthy. He smiles at Charles with all his teeth, “Little Mouse! Look at how beautiful you are!”

“Shut up, Erik.”

Charles goes inside and closes the doors.

Erik tries to stand but Charles places a firm hand in the middle of his chest and knocks the man down. “I need your promise Erik. Promise me you’ll help keep my sister safe. Promise me you’ll protect my family.”

Erik grins up, “Are we making a deal? Are you here to seal it with a kiss? You know how I feel about consummating contracts.”

“Shut up—”

“Shut up, Erik. I know.” He holds out his hands, “Come here and tell me what you want, Charles. You know I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He gives Charles a sad smile and waits.

The stupid man, thinks Charles. The stupid, stupid, man. He bats Erik’s hands away straddles his lap instead. “I need you Erik,” he says bluntly. “The plan is still moving forward. You promised to help me. I can get you out of here if you promise to keep my family safe.”

Erik raises his hands to Charles neck and the smaller starts shaking. He eyes the fading marks gently rubs his thumbs over the bruises. “Did you already extract the promise from that hairy little dog of yours?”

“Yes,” admits Charles. “But I need him at my side. You on the other hand, I need you to protect Raven. Make sure she doesn’t get in over her head.”

Erik gives him a solemn nod, “I needed you, little mouse. But you wouldn’t listen. I didn’t betray you, you know. Though, you’re always so quick to knife me. Or shoot me.” He laughs as folds over to kiss Charles just under the chin, “The fucking can opener!”

Charles pulls away. “Promise me, Erik. And take this.” He leaves one the vials. “If I fail, you have to pick up where I left off. Annaud has enough material from studying both of us over the years. He made an immunity for you as well. If I… If I die you have to pick this up and carry on for me.”

Erik sobs holds Charles tighter. “If you die, I won’t need it. I’ll tear everyone apart. Including your false god.”

That’s conviction, at the very least. Erik is nothing if not committed. Charles leans back and stretches his abilities, the ones he’s always kept down, and thought until recently weren’t even his own. He unlocks Erik’s gift and the man sighs as he reconnects with his powers.

“Thank you, Charles.”

Charles doesn’t answer him. He gets up and walks to the door, where hopefully the portals are still waiting. “My mother has taken up Buddhism. A new fad amongst the enlightened women of New York. She thinks nothing in this world matters now. She’s more worried about reincarnation.”

Erik smirks, “Mama didn’t believe in things like that.” He looks at Charles with unshed tears in his eyes, “Until our next life, Charles.”

Charles gives him a curt nod and walks away.

That went better than expected, he thinks.

And no one had to count backwards from a thousand.

 


	33. Shining Starlight

Gray City, Utopia April 1968

 

Charles sits by the pool in Gray City, waiting for Great Patriarch to return. He already sent a message along saying he was home. He waits in a lounge chair in the warm sunlight as if he were still on vacation. His shorts are a little too short and his sunglasses are a little too big. He sighs and waits while sipping drinks. Ambrose comes out to scream at him for a moment but Charles sends the coordinator away. Then Shiro appears and asks after Lucas. He lies and tells the boy that Lucas elected to spend time with his grandparents. Hank has the gall to come out and ask him to help recalibrate Cerebro. Charles gives him a middle-fingered salute and continues working on his sun burn. He’s not deluded enough to think he’ll tan out here.

After half an hour of pretending to be relaxed, the Great Patriarch finally finds him.

He hovers over Charles, his eyes going directly to the marks on his neck. “I see your time off was well spent.”

Charles attempts to shrug, but he’s shaking just looking up at the taller man. The shadow falling over him leaves him cold. “We’re at the turn of a new decade, my dear. I hear they’re calling open relationships ‘Free love’ or something.” His hands flip with odd gestures. He pretends to have little control over them. “I do get behind the times working so much. Raven was going to take me to this show with those puppets in that funny coffee commercial. You know the one.” He’s certain the man does not as he scratches his neck and twitches in his seat. “And then we could meet that Jim Henson fellow backstage or something... It’s all very groovy.” He smiles up while extending a hand. Hopefully he plays off not making any sense. He’s flaunted taking drugs in front of the Great Patriarch before. He needs to force the point this time.

The man sighs and takes Charles’s shaking hand, gives him a lingering kiss to back of his knuckles. He pulls away slowly and walks to the side of the chair. “I understand you left our child behind in enemy territory.”

Charles laughs, “That’s a new one! You sound just like Raven! Honestly, my mother’s not that bad.” He sticks out his tongue and pushes his sunglasses up higher on his nose. Wondering how many buttons he has to press to get some sort of reaction. “At this point you should marry her instead. You’re so proud of her work in the White House.” He tries to sound jealous. Raven’s fantastic cover for staying stateside included taking Kennedy’s face and holding a press event, calling the Great Patriarch an ally. It went over so well that Apocalypse stopped keeping such a watchful eye on her.

The Great Patriarch sighs again, “You are a pair of remarkable specimens. But I am yours, Charles. And you are _mine_. I’m not sure I can tolerate this… self-abuse any longer. Do you not value yourself at all? I’ve given you the world…”

“You’ve given me bloody hands,” Charles takes off his sunglasses and stares up. “And you’ve given me space. You gave me Erik, of all things. The monster under my bed, hm? You gave me back my son. And I just want…” He sobs and looks away. “I’m just a tool now. Your consort in name only, remember? I’m just an extension of your power and will now.”

The man growls at Charles after hearing this. Apocalypse raises his hand and Charles floats over his chair, his body bends until he’s staged in the air. Kneeling on nothing while the man pulls him closer and takes his chin in his one hand. “You are my Starlight. I told you what great meaning I have given you. You are still so hopeful and full of brightness. I will take this world by force, through you, my War. But you will rebuild it into a peace that last for all ages. What must I do to prove your worth to me now?”

Charles hopes he’s blushing. He hopes he pulls it off after a lifetime of having it occur without wanting it. He ducks his head but the sight of the ground scares him a little. He looks up and sees the man considering him with a soft expression on his normally severe face.

“I see. You still keep your mind from me, my Starlight, but I see this clearly.” He pulls Charles into a kiss and Charles moans into it before pulling away.

“Wait… are you? I mean are we real now? Not just in name?” He blinks a way a few tears. Fine job, he thinks. Sometimes he wishes there was an award for men who can will themselves to cry. He would win every one year. If the god has seen in his head, he knows how Charles normally thinks and won’t be fooled by a little crying. Charles has to fight not to cry. Pretend to look like he’s holding back.

The god tilts his head, “Is that what you’ve thought all this time? That I did not want you, my love?”

Charles nods meekly, “What was I supposed to think? You gave me to Warren. You _gave_ me to Erik. You were acting like my pimp or something. I’ve done your will all this time and I’m still scared I’ll be tossed aside or replaced.” He almost laughs, comparing this to the speech he fed Erik years ago. “How easy was it to name a new horseman? How do I know I’m not disposable?”

Apocalypse finally lets Charles down, but his feet still hover off the ground. He stands as tall as the other man so they can look each other in the eye. Apocalypse takes his hand, “If you want say you are ready to be mine, and only mine. Then just say it, my Starlight. I knew it would be hard for you to truly move on after the death of your beloved wife. Even the wild man was a mere distraction for you. I had no desire to be another distraction, Charles.”

Charles breathes out a sigh of relief and stretches his toes until the man finally releases him. He looks up with a shy smile from his real height. “You are more to me than a distraction. You’re not my God or savoir… I want to be your equal.” He thinks of Erik and all those plans the man had made for future. Of how he’s accepting that world but with a different partner.

Apocalypse gives him a broad smile, pleased to hear the revelation. He leans in to kiss Charles again, but the younger man stops him a with a raised hand.

“I’ll meet you in our rooms. Tonight. After I see Hank about Cerebro.” He smiles coyly, knowing he’s never stepped foot in the official bed chambers of the living god. “Just, give me a few hours to get ready.”

The man steps away and gives Charles a deep bow like a proper gentleman. He smiles as he disappears and Charles lets out a breath. _“Oh good lord, what the fuck am I doing?”_

A projection of Celeste appears in the seat he just vacated. _“Bring a lot of lube,”_ the boy’s face wrinkles, _“I don’t even remember the last time. But err on the side caution.”_

“Shut up, you!”

“Who are you talking to?” Asks Ambrose. She stands in full makeup looking at Charles with a thick binder in one hand. “Have you finally cracked? Can you hold off on the crazy until I get this fitting done?”

Charles scrubs a hand down his face, suddenly exhausted. He peeks at the designer through his fingers before he gets an idea. “You have work to do. Let’s go.” He marches over takes Ambrose by the hand.

“I know I have work! I’ve been yelling at you all morning! What are you talking about?”

Charles doesn’t stop as he leads Ambrose back to his rooms, “My honeymoon, Ambrose. I’m getting deflowered tonight.”

Ambrose snorts loudly, “Bit late for that, honey.”

 

 

While in the Astral Plane, the classroom setting fades away. Charles and the others sit around a great table as they start the attack. First Mindee fades away to deal with one of the theaters of war.

_They all see General Phillips is in Italy, rallying a small group of humans as they dress in armor and helmets recovered from one Erik’s armories in the Rhineland. The General remains bareheaded, assured that he can remain protected from Apocalypse’s frequent scans of Utopia. It’s a stretch but Charles keeps him invisible while he’s so close to Apocalypse. N’Dare is on the radio with one of his sergeants. A projection of Mindee tells the room to be quiet. The sedition leaders are used to seeing the younger versions of Charles pop up with news as they coordinate the attack. Charles watches as they answer the call. Her voice comes in clearly, “Ororo has started the rain over the Sea. The cyclone will be fully formed soon.”_

_“Fuck,” says General Phillips. “I’ve never heard of a hurricane in the Mediterranean. Well done, little lady.”_

_A small voice on the line laughs, “It’s not a hurricane yet! Mama can I have some more…”_

_N’Dare shushes her, “She’ll be ready in moment. The storm drains her. She’s taking a snack break before we get back to work.” They hear the loud sounds of the girl sipping through a straw._

_“Excellent,” Phillips looks to Mindee, “That is still the creepiest shit, son. I say that as man who has seen things.”_

_Mindee gives the General a salute before returning to the table._

 

The shared vision dissipates and they move on Phoebe and the Mongolian women being ‘conditioned’ outside of Moscow. The layout of the fort they’re being held in is left in their minds. Charles is confident they’ll know what to do when the captors around them suddenly fall asleep in a few hours.

 

Charles can’t quite reach the American continent but Darwin is on the radio with resistance soldiers working with Captain America. Charles smirks to himself. He knew the man would learn to like him eventually. Captain America agreed to help the sedition after learning the truth from Raven. He swore to help and sent along a little doodle of a fluffy kitten in uniform going over the trench. It was captioned, “Don’t stall for mice.” Raven said it was code for something but Charles just thinks the man was teasing him.

_A projection of Sophie appears on the table and Alex actually comes by and swipes his good hand through the boy’s head, before rushing over to put on his helmet. He grins and gives Darwin a thumbs up.   He’s collected more scars since Apocalypse took Tessa’s body. The empty socket of his bad eye is dark and a bright white scar lines his face._

_Sophie looks to Darwin, “Is Steve ready for the push?”_

_Darwin is on the radio. His own body seems permanently metallic, the color drained and hair gone. But he’s alive and Charles is thankful his friend got out of the Gray City. Darwin raises a hand for them to quiet, “The admiralty outside of Saudi Arabia confirms that Captain America has just arrived. He just fell out of plane? Into the Red Sea?”_

Charles leaves them to finish organizing Steve Rogers entry into the North African theater. The Americans are dropping ships and soldiers as quietly as possible in the Pacific. The Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese forces are cooperating as they prepare to land.  

They contact Arlington to find she’s returned to the Armed Forces of Freed Europe. She’s going against the Crown’s official statement of alliance and rallying at the Belgium border. Bastogne holds almost two thousand soldiers ready to cross into the Rhineland.

_The General’s eyes glow red as a storm cloud moves over the open field where her soldiers are gathering in trucks. Arlington looks at a projection of Celeste and gestures for him to join her in the cab of her truck. They pass a canal where Charles and his friends hid when they searched for Moira and Raven. Celeste, sneers at the sight and spits out onto the road. Arlington doesn’t bother addressing his odd behavior so he tells her up front, “Would all of this have happened if you had just given him the resources to save his family the first time?”_

_Arlington looks him in the eye, “I’ve made peace with my actions. And inaction. The whole world has been manipulated into war by a liar. Sending more soldiers at the beginning would have started the fight sooner.”_

Celeste doesn’t comment. He vanishes and reappears at the table.

“They’re all ready. Now to put the Living God down, Charles.” He smirks, “Did you get the lube?”

“Stop that,” says Sophie, “It’s not funny anymore.” He reaches over to squeeze Charles’s hand. “Good luck. We are still with you. You are not alone.”

“Five in one,” they all chant.

 

 

Charles takes back his body and opens his eyes. He’s standing in front of a mirror covered in silk. Again. He sighs and wonders what else Esme agreed to in his absence.

Ambrose comes in from the bathroom baring makeup brushes. “Okay monkey, get ready for the blush brush!” She gestures for him to come sit down and Charles obeys. He sits through her grooming and closes his eyes as she combs his hair. He’s sure he’ll look like a geisha again when it’s over.

Time passes as Ambrose wipes, brushes, dabs, and even sprays his face.

Charles has had enough of it after there’s a hard pull to his hair. “What the bloody hell are you doing to me? Oh,” he’s surprised by his own reflection.

“Ta-dah. I can’t seem find anything to match your fairy-tale glow. And that natural Snow White thing is working for you… I decided to leave it alone. But this damn mop! I’m going to cut it all off!”

Charles ducks away and grabs his head, “Leave it, Ambrose. Please.” He stands up straights and walks barefoot to the mirror, thinking of how Erik last left him on the floor in a similar get up. He shakes the thought out of his head. “This is fine. I’m not planning to stay dressed anyway. Thank you, Ambrose.”

He spends the rest of the evening telling servants to move his things into the Great Patriarch’s room.

Charles puts away the robe and redresses in jeans and a t-shirt. He finds Hank at the new Cerebro site and agrees to let the man use him for testing.

They spend the afternoon together as the machine is recalibrated for his power. “Wow,” remarks Hank as he watches a screen, “You’ve grown exponentially stronger in the last few months. Is this all you or has the Great Patriarch blessed you, too?”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “This is just me, Hank. I’ve stopped being afraid of my own power. It’s time to wield it.”

Hank nods along, oblivious to Charles’s real meaning. “Of course. I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s been killing me… I still love you like a brother you know…”

“Shut up, Hank.” Charles gives him a fake smile and slaps the man on the shoulder, “Let’s pretend you gave me a heartfelt apology and that’s the end of it. I have my son. I have my mother and sister. That’s all that I wanted.”

Hank toes off one of his shoes, “You wanted a normal life. Me too.” He peels of one of his socks and shows Charles his completely human foot. “And now we’re both blessed.” He gives Charles a wide, awkward smile.

Charles is surprised he doesn’t punch his friend in the teeth.

 

_999…_

The clock in Charles’s head starts counting down as he goes in the opulent bedroom of the living god.

Time moved so quickly today, he thinks. He quiets the others in his head as they move forward with their plans. The storm is growing stronger and about to make landfall. The news is already reporting it as a freak occurrence. People speculate about the sightings of the little weather goddess. Charles hopes what he’s offering in the bedroom is enough to distract the Great Patriarch for a few more hours.

A great marble slab like the one he was taken on the night he woke up occupies most of the room. He tries to get comfortable in the center of it as he waits. Time is dragging now and Charles is afraid his plans have already fallen apart. It wasn’t enough to just bat his eyes this time, he thinks. En Sabah Nur isn’t Erik. He isn’t driven by obsession. Charles is just a tool for him. And one that’s easy to replace. Charles shudders to think of Lucas being crowned Consort someday in Charles’s place. By a man he once called ‘Papa’.

His mind is starting to crack up at the edges when En Sabah Nur finally appears in dramatic fashion. He’s wearing his full armor at first, but as he steps towards Charles, parts of it float away from his person. The entire thing is disassembled and vanishes as Charles stares on with wide eyes.

“Wow.”

The man laughs reaches over his head to untie his long, curly hair. The beading and ornaments in the dark waves clink as they fall around his head. “I’m comfortable in my skin, but I can be accommodating as well.”

He shapeshifts in front of Charles, taking Tessa’s shape. Charles’s eyes water at the sight. “Anyone but that, please.”

Apocalypse shrugs and takes on Erik’s body.

Fuck, think Charles. It’s not fair that his body immediately responds to the sight. Heat churning low in his gut as his heart races, “That’s not fair.”

The man laughs, Erik’s teeth appear sharper than usual. He climbs up on the bed and pushes Charles down. “Aroused yet, my little… mouse is it?” He grins down with his Cheshire grin. It looks odd on Erik’s face but the familiar planes of his body are lean and hard. He lays across Charles and a hand fits down between the younger man’s legs. Charles lets out a sigh as his legs part automatically. It feels good, he thinks. So good at first but he has work to do. But then… Fuck, he thinks. The man even smells like Erik. Strong fingers brush against his inner thighs and Charles raises a hand to his own mouth, biting down on his palm in anticipation. He almost forgets to mind the pockets of the robes. Luckily, the god laughs and pulls away before doing anything satisfying. Oh well, thinks Charles. His head clears and the need to seek release dissipates.

Charles frowns and snaps his legs shut, “Another please.”

En Sabah Nur shifts into Logan, then Warren before returning to himself. He sits up and Charles imagines the shapeshifter has made himself larger after that little display. He wouldn’t want to be outdone by Erik, not now. Charles chokes on his own hysterical laughter and the man gives him a curious look. “Ah but I’ve forgotten. My little Starlight has no real preference for men? You were forced into a molding by that animal… but…”

Charles sobs, “Oh please don’t do that.”

“Ghosts are strange things,” says Moira’s voice from the god’s body. Charles has to look away as his nerve to act starts to crumble. “Reminders of the pasts that cannot really touch the future. But I can touch you like this, Charles. If you’d prefer…”

Charles cries as the small familiar hand lands on his face. He grabs it and kisses the fingertips before he pulls away. “I’m so sorry.”

Moira looks at him and it’s not her, he knows but the memory of her. The memory of her sweet smell, her warm eyes, and soft skin. His resolve collapses as she straddles him. “Charles,” she says petting his hair while he sobs in her chest, “Don’t blame yourself, darling. You always did what you had to do.”

Charles stops crying long enough to hear the voices ringing his head. “ _Now!”_

Charles sags in the god’s grip. “Just hold me like this? Please for a little while.”

“Anything you want, Charles... what…” Moira lets go to look down at her thigh. The injection from the virus works quickly. Her skin turns grey, her hands harden.

Charles stays put as it happens.

He understands the virus is contagious and rapidly attacks cells that it encounters with the mutant gene. He knows he should be safe after Annaud’s testing but a part of him doesn’t want to be safe. He holds onto the illusion of his wife. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Apocalypse tries to struggle and change back but it’s too late.

Charles is left with the heavy metallic remains of the living god. He climbs out from under En Sabah Nur and looks down at his own hand. The body on the bed spasms as a black cloud tries to escape it from the mouth. Charles sobs out a laugh, barely thinking about his next actions.

_“We’re with you_ ,” whispers Celeste. “ _You are not alone_.”

He seals his mouth over the petrified god’s and holds on while his own body starts to break down.

Charles closes his eyes and imagines he’s somewhere else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for forcing this but I had to stop myself from changing the very end over and over again.


	34. Super Nova

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait but the indecision monster was sitting on my head and he's a heavy fuck.

Gray City, Utopia April 1968

_Charles assumes the Astral Plane will be his new permanent residence. At least until he fades away like Emma did. He sits at the round table with the others. The space is dark and foreboding. Esme cries and holds the center of his head, feeling the pain of his first death as Charles dies. The others fade quietly. Going up in flames or silently gasping for air. Celeste lingers long enough to smirk at Charles, “All is going according to plan, sugar. The countdown worked. Everyone is being deployed.”_

_Charles tries to reach out with his powers before his brain shuts down for good. “Is my son safe?”_

_“As well as can be expected.”_

_“DADDY! NO!”_

Charles is shaken with fear just as Celeste fades away.

 

 

_“Charles.”_

Charles opens his eyes to see Moira. They’re spooned on their little raggedy couch in Bastogne. He sobs at the sight of her, “I failed. I completely failed.”

She kisses him once, “It’s okay Charles. You still have time.”

“Time for what? I’m dead! I know it!”

“He’s going to help you. Just wake up, darling. It’s going to be okay. But you have to wake up. You have to have let him help this time. Save Lucas before it’s too late.” She kisses him again, “I believe in you. Remember that, Charles. You just have to try.”

 

 

“Chuck? Fuck!”

Charles feels the world again. He doesn’t know how much time has passed.   He’s shocked to find he’s no longer disconnected from his body. His body feels rigid and hard, but he’s alive. He can tell from the pain. He tries to open his eyes and failing that, he tries to speak. “Lu…”

“Shit, it worked!”

Charles is moved around. His insides feel like stone, but slowly things are getting soft again. After a moment of going in and out of consciousness, Charles tries speaking again. “Lucas?”

“Chuck, don’t strain yourself. Shit.” Logan looks around at the crumbling bedroom, “We have to move fast. Those pricks took Lucas up to Cerebro. Annaud is turning on all the installations. We have get up there, but the kid’s tearing the place down. And the damn Slades are running interference.”

Charles’s mouth feels like slabs of concrete and taste like blood. He stretches his jaw and feels where soft tissue is tearing while it’s still connected to organic metal. A stray thought makes him choke on a laugh, “Erik would love this.” He finally opens his eyes but his vision is blurry.

“Ew… I mean, ah… you’re not looking your best here, Chuck. You’ve got big cataracts over your eyes. And ah… How’s your head feel?”

Charles moans and tries to keep still as his body changes back. Whatever its going through he’s thankful he’s nowhere a mirror. Logan lifts him and they move quickly through the palace. There’s rumblings and heat and screaming. Logan explains most of the Gray Palace is shaking apart. The war effort outside is going well enough.

“The storm landed and the army under the protection of N’Dare moved into Italy. Captain America is making his way to the Aegean in a helicopter and Darwin and Alex are organizing the ground outside Gray City. There’s still so many loyalists out there fighting for The Great Oz. I even had to knock out Ambrose on the way here.” He stops and adjust Charles in his arms, “That was a scary sight, Charles. But that little dork says you can change yourself back. That you did it before….”

“Erik’s nano-bots…” Charles feels more loose and his vision is clearing. He’s more aware now of how his power has turned in on itself. His brain is rapidly evolving to eradicate the virus. A step up from merely turning off the machines that manipulated his power. His range is wider. It’s the first time he’s been able to feel almost the entire world without Cerebro. He reaches out to their comrades and lets them know he’s still alive. He’ll survive the virus, he thinks. But what about… “Lucas. They took En Sabah Nur’s body? They’ll make Lucas the new host.”

“That’s what I thought,” they stopped moving after reaching Warren’s antechamber outside of the Great Hall. It’s the only room not shaking apart.   “Frederick and Ozymandias killed Margaret. Annaud and his shitty little assistant snatched Lucas out of his sleep. I’m sorry. That got passed all of us in the chaos.”

Charles feels the air around being displaced as they teleport. They reappear in the shelter under Westchester.

Blink stands in the middle of the room. There, she opens and closes portals. A cut on her head bleeding while the little girl directs people who jump in and out of the room. Beside her stands Bohdan, glowing brightly as he continuously heals her and others that come in the room. Blink notices Logan. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up. My uncles are doing something to keep me out of that tower.”

She tries to open a portal just above Cerebro’s dome but it collapses too quickly to be of use.

Logan lays Charles down, “Can you help him, kid?”

Charles panics, “No one touch me! The virus is still in me. I’m contagious. By all rights you should be dead, Logan.”

Logan smirks, “You know I’m a special snowflake, Chuck.” He leans down to kiss Charles on the top of the head.”

“Charles!”

They all turn to where one of the portals is being held open. Fort Ironclad is being overran by its prisoners, Erik is leading his men as they take out the true believers.

Erik stands in front of a portal, hesitating, “Is that you? Good god, are you alright?” A cloud of metal follows him, ripping and tearing through bodies as he stares wide-eyed at them. He seems to make up his mind and starts for the hole in space but Blink makes it’s too small for him to cross.

Instead she shouts out orders, “Take your people and move in to join Arlington.” She closes the portal and looks back at Charles, “Raven said to keep an eye on him. …My uncles,” She says biting her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they wanted to hurt your son. I swear I didn’t help…”

“It’s okay kid,” Logan gathers Charles in his arms.

Charles’s body starts feeling more like normal. He thinks of all the civilians caught in the clash. “Can you send someone back to collect Ambrose? There are so many others… Can we save them?”

Logan sighs and looks to Blink. The little girl nods, and opens a portal to an open battle field. “There,” she points out at Darwin as he flies circles around Warren. “He and Alex are trying to keep him occupied. I can sneak Yuriko back into the palace too. But we have to really bring him down. He’s killed a lot of people.”

Charles reaches out with his powers and finds Warren’s mind. Its bright with rage and mourning. The belief that his god is dead. He doesn’t know what to do and he’s lashing out at everyone, even his own people.

“ _Pietro and Wanda_ ,” projects Charles. _“They need their brother to survive this. Stand down, Warren.”_

They watch through the portal as Warren slowly raises his hands in surrender. He sinks slowly to ground and lets Alex cuff him.

Blink winces, “Sorry I think I need a break.” She sits down and Bohdan concentrates on her.

The corridors of the shelter under his family home are filled with people. Sharon runs over to them, “Oh my baby! What have they done to you? You look horrific! Are you okay?” She punches Logan on the arm, “I told you to leave earlier! This is your fault!”

Logan ignores her as he sets Charles on a table. “Don’t touch him.”

She smacks him again before leaning over Charles, “I just talked to Raven. She’s flying a bomber full of wounded people back here. We’re taking in the injured from all fronts. Kennedy urges everyone Utopia to fight with us. You were right, Baby. They can’t fight the whole world at the same time. I think we can really do this. But Baby… Is he gone?”

Charles tries to smile, “I think so. But we need to keep him that way. I have to go back. They have Lucas.”

“What!”

Charles is about to explain when Logan reappears, dragging Hank in by the collar. “This little shit is gonna help us get up there. He said the failsafe he used to knock out your powers before can be used on Lucas. We just have to get up there, right?”

“No,” starts Hank. “I built a remote. Its connected to all the Cerebro installations now. Just get me to any one of them.” He looks down at Charles, “I’m so sorry Charles. It’s like I just woke up from the weirdest dream. I don’t know how… all I can say is I’m sorry.”

Charles grits his teeth. “For what it’s worth, Hank I’ll always love you too, you cowardly bastard. Now stop sniveling and help me.”

“Always,” he gives Charles a crooked smile, “I’m always ready to follow you to do something reckless. Remember that girl in Amsterdam? The one who thought you were prostitute and you just went along with it?”

“Charles!” Sharon gapes at her son and Charles tries to shrug it off.

Hank covers his own mouth, “Sorry.”

“Shut up, Hank.”

 

They regroup and strategize for almost another hour. “How long was I out?” Charles asks after he spends several minutes with them in an improvised infirmary.

Hank is careful handling a blood sample from Charles under a microscope, “It’s all clear. You say a virus did this, not machines this time? I’ll need more time to analyze it for something like that but his blood is clearing up. He’s going back to normal. I’d need a sample of that virus to compare it to, just to be sure.”

Charles feels like dead weight as Logan manhandles him, but he still can’t control his own limbs. He spots a basic wheelchair and nods at it. Logan follows his sight and sets him up.

“Okay, then let’s assume I’m not contagious. You’re alive and Logan’s alive. My mother’s alive out there.”

“Oh god, we should have had you under quarantine!”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Logan strips off his belt and straps Charles to the chair. “There, so you can stop flopping over, kid.”

Charles smiles up at him, “Thank you for that, but I really need to know how long it’s been. What are they doing to Lucas at Cerebro?”

Hank pushes up his glasses and grabs some pen and paper, “They’ll need to recalibrate the machine. You saw today that each installation is connected now. I have different settings saved for you both. We spent four hours today setting the entire array back to your powers. They may almost be done reconfiguring it but… Oh my god. If they turn on all five of the installations, it might kill Lucas. He’s strong but he’s nowhere near your psychic strength. Even with his modifications.”

Logan grabs the man by collar, “What modifications!”

“Put him down,” says Charles. But he looks up at his old friend, “But do clarify. What modifications.”

“I don’t know exactly. I was just following orders from the Great Patriarch. He took Lucas after he died… he did die. I remember that.” He looks at his hands, “He took him and brought him back and… I swear all I did was monitor him. But he was different. He’s been different for a long time, Charles.”

Charles lets the information sink it, “En Sabah Nur’s blood. Just like me. Annaud has wanted to use a man with my family’s blood for a long time. It’s time we find out why.”

Blink comes forward, looking tired and bloody. She grins at them with gap-toothed smile. “All better. Bohdan patched me up. You guys got someplace to go?”

Hank scrubs a hand down his face and looks to Charles, “The Cherykaw installation is isolated. There’s no fortifications or anything. It’s mainly a bridge between Gray City and Moscow. Well… It might be guarded. Lightly.”

Charles sighs swallows a lump in his throat and weakly nods his head. “Have you seen all the Cerebro extensions?”

Blink nods, “I’ve been everywhere, man. Raven insisted.” She opens a portal and gestures for them to pass, “I’ll keep an eye on you guys in case things get too hairy.

 

 

In the next moment Charles is wheeled towards the vortex and comes out on the other side. Logan starts to move him toward the helmet platform but stops and sniffs the air. He scowls before unsheathing his claws, “What the fuck is _he_ doing here?”

“Who?” Ask Charles. He’s only just started regaining use of his of limbs, and even with the extension of his powers, he feels helpless. He still can’t turn around to see where Logan’s going. “Who’s here? What’s going on? Hank?”

Hank is busy flipping switches and typing at consoles. Logan backs out the only door at the top of the dome, “Stay here. I’ll take care of ‘em.”

Hank wheels Charles toward one of the monitors, “It’s probably Sabretooth and Juggernaut. The Great Patriarch left them in the labs in the basement. Juggernaut is…” He looks at Charles with uncertainly, “He was kept to fight you specifically. He’s impervious to psychic manipulation now. Whitehall was working on him for Shaw. We found him Bulgaria while you were sleeping…” He swallows and looks away.   “I think Logan can handle them both. He’s immortal right?”

They hear screaming in the floors below. The entire dome shakes. Charles sighs, “Can you really disable Lucas from here?”

Hank nods, “I just need a few minutes…” He types frantically types at a console. “They’re keeping me out of the system. But I’m sure I can get back in and reroute the control of the entire array from here.”

Another crash and howling from below sets Charles off. He reaches out to Logan, _“Need a hand, Wolverine?”_

 _“If you could stop my brother and his new friend from tossing me around like rag doll,”_ his mind gets fuzzy and there’s more howling and slamming. _“I’d really appreciate it, Chuck.”_ He projection is weak before his mine goes dark.

Charles reaches out and easily takes Sabretooth, but the mysterious Juggernaut is hard to pin down. He looks through Sabretooth’s eyes and sees a man in strange armor tossing Logan around by the leg. _“Stop him,”_ He pushes with all the command he can muster.

The man lets go of Logan when Sabretooth barrels into him and Charles directs his attention back to Hank.

The younger man is starting to look frustrated. “This is impossible. How could they know so much about Cerebro anyway…”

“You can’t stop them? Just turn off all the installations.”

“I can’t!” Hank slams a hand down on the console, “I just can’t get in fast enough.”

Charles closes his eyes and reaches out to Blink, “Can you give us a distraction? Send Erik to the Gray Palace. Tell him I’m waiting for him in Cerebro, but he has to crash the whole thing with his powers.”

“Can he do that,” says Blink while following orders. Charles sees through her eyes while she summons Erik. Erik is fighting Shiro. He’s focused on controlling two massive snake-like links of molten metal. They look to have been liquefied by the boy’s power, but Shiro is losing the battle. Charles tries to force Shiro to surrender, knowing a gentle nudge won’t work with this horseman. The boy pauses long enough to raise his hands. Erik doesn’t hesitate to wrap him in the metal and leave him encased in it on the ground. He spots the portal from Blink, “Where’s Charles!”

A growl at the dome’s entrance pulls Charles away. He looks down in time to see the severed head of Sabertooth.

“Charlie? Is that you?”

Charles is stunned as he recognizes the voice and is instantly filled with shame and horror. “Cain?”

His step-brother comes up and stares at Charles and Hank. “Look at you.” He laughs. “Still messing with people’s heads.”

Charles tries desperately to break though Cain’s armor and hammers at the technology blocking him. He’s too busy to see Hank taking off his glasses at the console. “I was blessed. I thought I was… I was blessed,” says the gangly young man. He changes quickly into his monstrous form. He’s now twice as big as his old Beast form. He growls and leaps at Cain, knocking him back down the stairway.

All the lights in the dome shut off and Charles lets out a sigh of relief. He keeps hammering at Cain, but he’s certain Erik has followed through at the first Cerebro. A portal appears and Blink stands on the other side, “He went through but Yuriko says they still can’t get inside that tower. We checked the other installations. They’ve been cut from the array!”

“Fuck!” Charles stretches his mind and reaches for all the metal in the wheelchair. “Send me to Erik, quickly. And save Hank, he’s fighting a monster.” He wheels himself with his powers across her answering wormhole and goes straight to Erik’s side.

They’re outside the palace. Erik holds out his hands, orchestrating with his gift as he manipulates electromagnetic fields, sending a pulse that should knock out power in the Cerebro. He frowns with concentration, “It’s not drawing power from anything mechanical now. I think your son is doing this.”

_“DADDY! NO!”_

The boy is screaming in everyone ears. Erik stops to cover his head, “He’s already connected to that damn thing. I can’t stop him here, but this…” He reaches down to his pocket and shows Charles the second vial. “I know you love him, but think of what Phaedar is doing. The whole world versus the life of one child.” His voice is soft and he kneels down in front of Charles. “I can do this for you, Charles.”

“No. I’ll stop Lucas. Go help Yuriko with the civilians in the Palace.”

Erik laughs and bops him on the nose. He looks at Charles like he’s still seeing a pet, even after all these years. “Even bald, you are still cute as a mouse. Or a mole. One of those little hairless moles…” He’s grinning like a maniac and Charles knows there’s no time for the stupid man to be crazy.

“Do as I say, Erik.” He commands, but Erik’s mind is slippery and focused on Charles’s condition.

Erik sighs, “I’m staying by your side, whether you like it or not, Charles.”

“That’s always been the problem, Erik.” He hopes he’s not crying now. Erik already looks self-satisfied. As if offering to kill his son was a romantic gesture. “Fine, but you don’t lay a finger on Lucas.”

Erik grins while he unstraps Charles and lifts him out of the chair. Charles is in no position to stop his head from resting on Erik’s shoulder so he ignores it. They lift up slowly and float towards the maelstrom of psychic energy covering the Cerebro tower. His son’s multiple powers are out of control, swirling debris, fire, and plasma. Erik tucks Charles close as they fly towards the sphere, emitting an electromagnetic barrier against the onslaught.

They get close enough to hear cackling and Charles stretches his own powers. “Lucas? Can you hear me, darling? I need you to calm down.”

“ _DADDY_!” The storm gets worst, “ _Daddy is dead! They killed him! They killed them both!”_

“ _Lucas_ ,” Charles tries to soothe his son, “ _Where are the men who took you? Are they nearby? We have to stop them.”_

_“No! They killed them both! They killed mama! The humans! They did this! I will wipe them from the world!”_

“Oh fuck,” Charles looks at Erik with wide eyes, “I think he’s going to kill all the humans!”

“Bravo!”

“Shut up, Erik!”

Erik bends back a section from the top of the dome. They go inside and find Annaud and Herbert at the consoles. Annaud is laughing like a madman. Herbert is cowering under one of the consoles with his hands over his head. He’s speaking quickly into a microphone. Annaud looks up at Erik and Charles, “My favorite Subjects. Little Red and Little Blue. Look at you now! You actually survived! I hoped you would. You will see the glory of decades of my research finally to fruition!” Lucas is crying up on the platform. The maelstrom outside sounds even worst.

Fredrick and Hamilton Slade stand together. They’ve killed their own mother and will probably have no problem with killing Charles and Erik. Frederick grins as he teleports to stand behind them. Hamilton changes the shapes of his hands into two blades. Charles is bored with them, having already gone against the real thing. “I just killed your father, boys. I’m not going to waste any time on you two.”

Hamilton bares his teeth and charges forward. Frederick disappears to try and catch them both off guard.

Erik and Charles move in sync. Erik shuts off the telepathy blocking devices the brothers have surgically implanted in their heads. Hamilton falls to floor with his eyes turning white and Frederick simply doesn’t reappear, having lost his power to teleport while being several hundred feet above the Palace.

For some reason Annaud finds this all funny. “Brilliant, my sons. Brilliant. But you are too late to stop this.” He looks at Lucas, “This one is my pride and joy. He has your ability to evolve his mind and with this little…” He stops to laugh at their surroundings, “Microphone or speaker or amplifier. Whatever you want to call it. He will tell the whole world to change too.”

Erik’s eyes go to Herbert, “He’s reciting a poem.” He tells Charles, “He’s saying something about a red hen over and over again.”

“Stop him, Erik. He’s driving Lucas insane.”

Erik melts the metal in the headset Herbert wears down and the man falls over in pain.

Annuad seems to find this funny as well. It’s too late to stop it. The experiment is completed. You wasted you potential to change the world, my child. Now it’s up to your son. Now he will… ahh!” He gasps as Erik lashes out at him with a blade.

“The last time I killed you that little toady brought you back to life. Not this time, Doctor.”

Charles focuses on trying to calm Lucas down.

“Darling, please. It’s me. Its daddy. You have to come down from there before you hurt yourself. Lucas.”

The boy snaps at them, “You are no one! I’m stronger than you’ll ever be! I am Legion! Do you hear me! I am a God! I am…” He blinks his eyes now that the chanting from Herbert has stopped. “I want to go home. I want to go home!”

Erik walks Charles up to the platform and sits him down at Lucas’s feet. Charles pushes memories of Moira and Lucas into his son’s mind. Fireworks and bedtime stories. The way she smiled at her son. “You don’t have to hurt anyone, Lucas. You can stop this right now. Come home with me, darling.”

The storm outside starts subside. Erik sighs and lifts the helmet off of Lucas’s head, “That was close.”

Charles starts to smile when he feels the presence of another mind.

Ozymandias hides in the shadows, the corpse of Apocalypse is in the floor below. “Erik,” whispers Charles as projects what he sees. “He’s trying to reanimate Apocalypse. Can you stop him?”

Erik gives Charles a rueful smile before kissing him on the head. “I’ll be right back.” He opens his palm and leaves the viral injection near Charles, “In case they make it up here. In which case, this probably goodbye.” He smiles with all his teeth and Charles lets him go. He refuses the let tears in his fall and thinks of Lucas. “We’re going to get out of here now…”

Lucas opens his eyes and they are red. “My shining Starlight. Did you think it would be so easy?”

Charles can hear Erik mind, noisy as he concentrates on murdering the man below them. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, his hand skating up the edge of Lucas’s leg with the injection. “No. I did not. I did what I had to do.”

Lucas’s eyes changes to a bright violet and he smiles brightly at his father, “Me too, Daddy.”


	35. Epilogue

New York, New York May 1968

Charles wakes up to an alarm and the voice of President Kennedy on the television. He groans and puts his pillow back over his head.

“Daddy! I’m going to be late for school!”

Charles sighs before getting up and getting ready. A quick shower, some toast, his briefcase and lessons plans. Lucas is thrumming with energy, running out the front door to the car. Charles stops as he locks up their apartment. A flyer for mutant rights is stuck on the door, Raven’s picture accusing the reader of not being active enough. He rolls his eyes and starts down the steps when he bumps into someone.

He's surprised when the someone turns out to be a tall and handsome man. “I’m so sorry.” Says the man. He waves back at car where a young woman awkwardly waves at Charles. “My sister has me taping these everywhere. She works at the Jewish center. And they recently opened a new mutant program. Do you have any mutants in your family, sir?”

Charles looks up at the man feeling warm and cold at the same time. “No. It’s just my wife and son. We’re nothing special sir.”

The man smiles, “Neither am I. It’s such a rare thing…” He breaks off looking a bit shy. “Well it was good to meet you…”

“Charles.”

“Charles.” He says thoughtfully. “I’m Max. Though my sister calls me Maggi.” He gives Charles another wide smile and Lucas honks the horn in the car. They both laugh at the boy’s impatience before Max turns back to Charles.

He extends his hand and for some reason, Charles refuses to take it.


	36. The End...

Notes and thank you's, so many it needs it own chapter.

First of all thank you everyone who kept up with the story or asked for more.  Thanks especially to **[Butterynutjob](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob), [Kernezelda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda)** , [messedup4good](http://archiveofourown.org/users/messedup4good), [JDWraith](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JDWraith), [Square Pancake,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pancake/pseuds/Square_Pancake)

Your comments especially helped me shape the story (so its totally your fault no one's dead :P)

And thank you to [Rhyme2Rhapsody](Rhyme2Rhapsody), Francis, ,Hope, [The_DK](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_DK/pseuds/The_DK), [castorspeach110](http://archiveofourown.org/users/castorspeach110/pseuds/castorspeach110)

and every one else who was kind enough to leave a comment or kudos on my poor demented story.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

As for the ending...

Lucas is Legion and among his many canon powers is the ability to warp reality and travel in time.

So at the end there, Charles was ready to sacrifice his son but Lucas fought off Apocalypse, and used his

abilities to change reality. 

So yes, alternate universe.  Everyone lives, (sort of) in the new world and Lucas has taken

away the things that made his family unhappy and brought back his mother because even though Charles and

Evil!Erik are great at having sex with other, its not really healthy for either of them. 

In this world Erik's sister lives, killing her was what pushed over to the dark side in the first place so Lucas (Me)

had that removed as well.

 

I hope this clears things up and thanks again for sticking with it ! ^_^

 

 

 

~~I will never, ever, ever do this to myself again. Ever.~~

~~Except to post it chronological order.  All 102 chapters.  
~~

It seems I lied. 136 and growing.  


End file.
